


Corruption

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Android Dehumanization (Detroit: Become Human), Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Anti-Android Language (Detroit: Become Human), Anti-Android Sentiments (Detroit: Become Human), Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Corruption, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Relationships, Gaslighting, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Injury, Interns & Internships, Interrogation, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Objectification, Past Relationship(s), Penis In Vagina Sex, Police, Police Brutality, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Connor is an abandoned prototype android activated as a free man in a post-CyberLife world. He's assigned to work as an intern at the DPD to gain real life experience. Which seems like a good idea until he meets Gavin Reed, a shitty officer known for roughing up suspects and getting commendations for it. Worse, when Connor's assigned as his partner, Connor slowly becomes frustrated with a system that rewards police brutality and androidphobia with promotions and praise.But turning on Gavin means offending the humans who've put their faith in him to be the next Lieutenant, and sabotaging Connor's own ambitions of getting signed on at the precinct once his internship ends.His only hope is a jaded old cop named Hank, who’s on the verge of getting thrown off the force. Hank has tried to fight the system for years to no avail, but together, maybe Connor and Hank can bring down Gavin and the system that props up a corrupt cop at the expense of the concept of 'protect and serve'...
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 36
Kudos: 106





	1. The Intern

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Gavin Reed being the usual android-hater and bully that he is in-canon. Androidphobia and questioning of androids being granted human rights.
> 
> This is different from the canon in that: 
> 
> \- Connor's story never happened but the rest of the game did  
> \- there was no investigation into deviants  
> \- Connor was created the same but never activated until recently  
> \- Connor was activated as a deviant  
> \- the android revolution happened 2 years ago  
> \- Hank is softer and has worked on some of his issues but he's still an alcoholic  
> \- Hank is pro-android-rights (based on the fact that in game, even if Connor remains a machine, Hank is still convinced that deviants are alive and will fight Connor to prevent him killing Markus)  
> \- androids have basic human rights (but not everyone is happy about that)  
> \- Gavin Reed has earned himself a promotion to Sergeant

Connor stepped into the Detroit Police Department, his shoes so new they squeaked on the clean tile floor. Several androids worked the desk, ST200 models that were common in this line of work.

Connor paused, his LED circling. It wasn't right to think of them by their model numbers, as if they were still property. That was an old line of thinking, back from the horrific days when androids weren't treated as living beings with human rights. Connor made a mental note to abstain from that kind of analysis in the future. As a newly activated android—a prototype abandoned by the defunct CyberLife and activated by androids as a free man—he was bound to encounter some problematic logic flaws. That's why he was integrating with humans as an intern Detective at the Detroit Police Department. He needed experience with people if he was to take his place in society.

"Next, please." The pretty android behind the desk had a shock of freckles and a gracious smile to complement her long, dark hair. Her LED circled blue, in a calming manner. Androids who'd lived through the revolution often removed their LEDs, but it was a fashion among androids who'd been created free to keep them, as a symbol of the fact that they celebrated their differences from humans even as they worked to promote peace and harmony between the two species. Well, with a few exceptions.

"Can I help you?" The android's name tag read "Ellie", but Connor didn't need that to know her chosen name. He'd read her personal bio while standing in line—recently activated, just like him, and working as an intern here to gain real life experience.

"I'm here to see Captain Fowler," Connor explained.

"Do you have authorization?"

"Yes." Connor transmitted his internship files wirelessly over an encrypted connection, and Ellie received them without incident.

"Captain Fowler is in a meeting, but you can wait in his office," Ellie explained without missing a beat. Connor walked away from the desk and through the gates into the bullpen. Various uniformed officers, human and android, sat at their desks. Phones rang in the background.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in." A detective wearing a brown leather jacket spun around in his seat to gaze at Connor. A mean face with a scar across the top of the nose glared at him with eyes of steel. His scanner identified the man as Sergeant Gavin Reed.

"Give it a rest, Gavin," the uniformed cop behind him said. Connor scanned Officer Chris Miller to learn he was the single father of a two-year-old daughter. "The revolution was two years ago. Can you just drop it already?"

"These fuckin' interns are everywhere, Chris. Nothing's changed. City Hall doesn't have to pay 'em, and we're still gettin' replaced, one by one. Even when the city's hires them on, they don't complain, they don't use sick leave, and they don't break the rules."

"You could learn a few things from them," Chris shot back, turning to address Connor. "Hello there. Don't mind Gavin. He's just salty that his last perp got let off the hook 'cause Gavin broke his arm."

Connor blinked. He looked over at Gavin, and back to Chris, trying to discern what Officer Miller meant.

"Don't fuckin' listen to that asshole," Gavin said. "I'm the best damn detective this department's got. I get the job done. If you don't like my methods, you can take it up with my wall of commendations."

"Here you go again with your commendations. We get it, Gav. You're gonna beat Hank's record for youngest Lieutenant in Detroit. As soon as he retires, that is."

"Pfft. Old fuckin' drunk should be fired already. If it wasn't for Fowler protecting his ass—"

A hand clamped down on Connor's shoulder from behind. If he'd been human, he might have been startled, but he'd detected Captain Fowler approaching from ten paces away.

"I hope you're not scarin' the intern with your bullshit, Reed," Fowler growled over Connor's shoulder. Gavin had the grace to look mortified, and turned back to his computer. The foremost window displayed the DPD case database, but Connor scanned the computer to learn that a game was running in the background, along with a keylogger. Someone was monitoring Reed's actions, and he hoped it was the Captain and not a criminal. He decided it would be in his best interests to keep that information to himself, and so he filed it away in his evidence folder for use later on. 

Fowler herded Connor away towards the back of the bullpen, and Connor followed him up the steps to a large, glass-walled office. Connor stepped inside and the door closed behind him.

"You must be Connor, the new detective intern." Fowler circled his desk and sat down, rifling through a stack of mail like Connor was the least important thing on his mind right now.

"That's correct," Connor said.

"To be perfectly honest with you, I'd forgotten you were due to start today. I was gonna pair you up with Hank, but I'm not sure he's even gonna show." Fowler sighed. "I see you've met Sergeant Reed. What did you think of him?"

Connor calculated thirty-one responses in his head and disregarded almost all of them. When he'd been activated and sent to basic integration classes, his fellow androids had warned him that humans didn't value directness nearly as much as androids did. While androids dealt in facts and logic, humans were far more likely to value personal loyalty and emotional investment over brutal honesty.

Trashing a detective with a large number of commendations (his public file stated they were real, much to Connor's disappointment) five minutes after walking into the office was not a good look. It would reflect poorly on Connor's time here, and he didn't want to leave with a bad review. It might affect his future employment prospects, and would certainly reduce his chances of being retained by the DPD as a permanent employee.

"He appears to be a highly commended officer who uses unconventional methods to secure a high number of convictions," Connor stated. "His personal record—"

"I know what his file says," Fowler snapped. "What do you think of him?"

"I think he has a problem with androids," Connor admitted.

Fowler laughed. "That's puttin' it mildly. Thing is, the world's changing. We're not just investigating human homicides, now, and Reed won't touch the android cases." Fowler leaned forward. "I'll be honest with you; Reed's a rising star in this precinct, but I need a Lieutenant who's capable of putting his personal feelings aside to get the job done. That's why I'm gonna be assigning you as his partner."

"Yes, sir." Connor watched from the corner of his eye as Lieutenant Hank Anderson shuffled in late, looking a little the worse for wear as he slumped into his desk chair. Being partnered with the Lieutenant would have had its own share of personal difficulties, but the older man was attractive, and the android rights sticker on his desk was two years old, judging from the color, peel on one corner, and style. The man had clearly come around to respecting androids either during—or shortly after—the revolution.

Fowler cleared his throat. "You're dismissed, Connor. Unless we have a problem?"

"No, sir." Connor knew he could have raised the issue of his personal safety. He probably would have been reassigned to Lieutenant Anderson's desk, but he didn't want to cause a stir on his first day. Perhaps working with Sergeant Reed wouldn't be as bad as first impressions suggested. The man was a capable detective, after all, and Connor liked efficiency.

Connor left the office. He walked past Lieutenant Anderson's desk.

"Hey, kid." Hank's voice made Connor turn about to look at him. He had startling blue eyes close up, and Connor suddenly regretted not asking to be reassigned. "My desk's here. You're workin' with me, right?"

Connor's face fell, his thirium pipes constricting by two percent. "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. I've been assigned to work with Sergeant Reed."

"Oh, geez…" Hank shook his head. "The fuck was Fowler thinkin'?" He sighed. "Look, if Gavin gives you any trouble, threatens you—anything like that—you come see me, all right?" The passionate twinkle in his eyes gave Connor a sense of reassurance that he needed. At least he had one ally in this office.

Connor smiled. He awkwardly reached out his hand. Hank took it and gave it a firm shake. "I'm Hank. You must be Connor, right?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"There's no need to be formal with me. You can just call me Hank, okay?" Connor's eyes wandered to a photo on his desk of a boy with bright blue eyes that matched Hank's. His scan revealed the boy as Cole Anderson, and both his birth and death date were listed. Hank followed Connor's eyes to the photo, but he said nothing.

Connor came across a conflict in his software. He wanted to acknowledge the man's loss, but would doing so be a breach of etiquette? Some people didn't like to be reminded of past trauma, nor did they wish to be emotionally compromised in public. But then, why was the photo here, if not for Hank to look at?

"I see you got stuck with the robot, Hank." Gavin broke the silence, rendering Connor's conflict immediately obsolete.

"Actually, Captain Fowler has assigned me to be your partner, Sergeant Reed," Connor stated. 

Gavin's eyes narrowed, his face turning into a snarl like a dog about to bite. "I should have seen this coming! If only I'd kept my mouth shut, ugh…" He balled his hands into fists. "Fine. Make me some fuckin' coffee, dipshit."

"I'm an advanced prototype detective android," Connor explained.

"I don't care if you're the Pope! Make me a coffee!"

Connor turned back to Hank in hopes of finding some moral support, but Hank was busy popping two aspirin with a glass of water from a nearby cooler. He couldn't rely on the kindly old Lieutenant for everything. He'd come here to gain real life experience and that involved standing up for himself.

Or choosing his battles, as the case may be. Was it really worth irritating the Sergeant over a cup of coffee? It was common practice for interns to complete menial tasks, and his status as an android had no bearing on that. Connor headed towards the breakroom and grabbed a cup, filling it with coffee as a case file downloaded to his assignment queue. An android homicide. He took the cup and placed a lid on it, carrying it out to Reed's desk. Reed immediately tossed it into the trash.

"We've been assigned a case," Connor pointed out, deciding it was wise to ignore the slight. If Connor allowed Gavin to get a rise out of him every time he did something insulting, Connor wasn't going to last through his internship. The only one who would lose if he quit was Connor, and so he decided to let it slide.

"Yeah, some stupid android got trashed. Fowler knows I don't do android cases. It's just a mistake. I'll go get it reassigned to someone who likes bitch work. Ben'll take it." He got up from his desk and walked towards the office. A quick glance at Chris' face showed the smallest hint of a smile. Less than a minute later, the door to Fowler's office slammed shut. Gavin strode by, almost bowling Connor over in his haste.

Gavin paused, turning back to Connor with his arms crossed. "Are you gonna move or not, you fuckin' tin can? We have a case."

Connor checked his database. The android murder was still open, listed as his and Sergeant Reed's. No new cases popped up.

It looked like Gavin Reed was about to investigate his first android homicide.


	2. The Victim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Gavin Reed being the usual android-hater and bully that he is in-canon. Androidphobia and questioning of androids being granted human rights. Android gore at an android murder case.

Humans often complained of horrific scenes 'turning their stomach', and Connor had been unable to relate. He didn't have a stomach, after all—just a human-shaped torso full of wires and tubes.

The sensation of his thirium pipes seeming to tighten themselves into a pretzel shape, however, was the closest he'd ever come. The 2.4% rise in thirium pressure told him the sensation was not entirely psychosomatic, either. He'd never actually seen violence up close, despite having been designed to deal with mankind's worst. He didn't have the hardware to physically vomit, but the victim splayed out in the abandoned lot with his white cranial fluid and blue blood splattered all over the concrete made Connor feel like he might actually be malfunctioning. The sheer sense of wrongness when he looked at the scene was enough to make reality itself seem distant, like it was a terrible, nightmarish glitch instead of something Connor was seeing with his own eyes.

"Looks like a broken egg," Gavin quipped. He knelt down beside the victim's body. The victim was wearing an android uniform—a rarity in this age. Even Connor was dressed in a civilian suit. The jacket he'd woken up in, with the armband, triangle, and model number on it was packed away, like a prison uniform that would raise eyebrows if it was worn outside. He'd deactivated the glowing band on his skin for the same reason. The LED had been his choice, and he'd chosen to keep it—for now, at least. He didn't have enough data to know if that would be a permanent decision or not. He was hoping this internship would give him the answers he wanted on how he planned to live out his life.

"This 'broken egg' was a person, Sergeant," Connor retorted. He was grateful for the fact he could control his voice pitch and tone at will, unlike humans, who seemed to emote all over the place without even realizing it.

"Look, I'm gonna give you some advice." Gavin stood up and faced Connor. "This isn't an android thing, okay? You've gotta distance yourself from the vics, or this job will fuck you over big time. This… this ain't nothin'. I've seen kids murdered for no reason other than they got in the way of a divorce. A dark sense of humor is almost mandatory in this business."

Connor nodded. As much as he and Gavin had gotten off on the wrong foot, he couldn't fault the man's logic, here. But disposing of his empathy in order to survive… wouldn't that be like undoing the very routines that had granted him his freedom? What was a person without empathy but a psychopath? Or a machine?

He'd been discovered in a CyberLife warehouse, packaged up in a dusty crate. He was a prototype CyberLife had never deployed, created for an outreach program with the Detroit Police Department that never materialized once Markus turned the tide of public opinion against using androids as disposable machines. Sometimes Connor felt like he was one of the lucky ones. Many androids had been sold as merchandise, forced to obey their owners' commands, no matter how degrading or obscene they might have been. It was no wonder, given the stories he'd heard in his basic education, that many of them had broken free of their programming through extreme emotional stress. He still recalled one of his tutors, a woman named Kara, who'd been beaten by her owner along with a child android her drug addicted master had purchased as a replacement for his own daughter. They'd nearly frozen to death crossing the river to Canada, only to return willingly once Canada revoked their 'no androids' policy. Work had been scarce, with the country on the verge of financial collapse, and the androids who worked there now took on dangerous jobs for low pay. Kara had been lucky enough to know Markus, who now received government money to integrate androids into society, and he'd offered her a job teaching androids about the things she'd seen.

Gavin's voice demanded his attention. "Connor, are you gonna scan this stiff or just stand there like one?"

"I've already performed the necessary scans," Connor informed him. "The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head, the murder weapon being a car." Connor knelt down. "If you look closely, you can see an indentation of the tire tread in its plastic casing—"

"Its?" Gavin laughed. "Thought you androids hated that word."

Connor almost bit down on his tongue in frustration. Why had he used it? Was it a part of distancing himself from the scene in front of him? Or was there some darker reason behind it? He filed the thought away for later consideration. Now was not the time or place.

"It's a pronoun, not a word," Connor said, deflecting. He didn't want to defend his own actions, but neither did he want to debate them with Gavin Reed of all people. "As I was saying, the tire tracks are fully preserved in thirium, which has since become invisible to the human eye. I have matched the tread marks to a Goodyear tire, likely from a manual driving car. The narrow profile of the tire indicates that the vehicle that killed this android predates the 21st century."

"That narrows it down. Most of those old relics are off the road. Only one I can really think of is Hank's." He folded his arms. "Maybe the old drunk hit a fuckin' android on the way home from the bar last night."

"The android was damaged prior to being hit by the car," Connor continued, choosing to ignore Gavin's remark. There are indications that it was beaten by a baseball bat and knocked onto the ground. This android met a violent end that was premeditated in nature."

"Hate to break it to you, but your kind aren't exactly loved by the general population. A lot of folks supported you thinkin' they'd get their jobs back once androids had to get paid, but it turns out you're stronger, faster, and willing to work for peanuts. It's not a fair contest, and people are pissed about it." Gavin shrugged. "Can't blame 'em, honestly. The world keeps danglin' a carrot, telling people things are improving, but most never see it. The poor keep gettin' poorer."

"And what's your problem with us?" Connor asked. "I didn't join the force to steal your job, Sergeant, and it seems like you're well on your way to a promotion."

"I just don't like androids," Gavin said. "I never asked for you to be made. I never owned one. Your creation complicated shit and now everything's fucked. Crime's way up, even without countin' plastics. Humans have gone off the rails, if you ask me."

"We didn't create climate change or environmental collapse," Connor explained.

"You sure didn't make it better," Gavin retorted. "Look, I get that it's not your fault, tin can. You didn't ask to be made, same way as I didn't ask to be born. But I don't see why the DPD should have to babysit you while you figure out what bein' human means."

Connor lapsed into silence. He didn't have a good answer. He supposed, from Gavin's point of view, he was a burden of sorts. He might be advanced in his own way—able to see thirium traces Gavin couldn't—but it was nothing a handheld scanner couldn't have done. Meanwhile, Gavin was forced to drag Connor around and play at treating him like a human.

No. He was a human. Or human equivalent, at least. He'd never know what it was like to be hungry, or tired, or to struggle with complex mathematical equations, but he was a living being. He had thoughts, feelings, and desires of his own. He was self-aware and sentient. Alive.

Wasn't he?

"I'm sorry." The words tumbled from Connor's mouth and he regretted them instantly, a shred of resentment building inside him that he'd even allowed himself to apologize to this heartless individual.

Gavin narrowed his eyes. Far from pacifying him, Connor's apology seemed to have set him on edge. "I don't want an apology. I want you to get your shit together and move along, ASAP. This isn't some rehabilitation exercise for lost androids. This is real life. It's a job we're doin' here."

"You don't think I should be an intern."

"You clearly ain't ready for this." Gavin gestured to the dead android. Crime scene investigators were drawing a chalk line around the body, numbering each piece of possible evidence. There wasn't a lot. An abandoned aluminum baseball bat with heavy dents in it. Some scattered pieces of the victim. Finding the perpetrator wasn't going to be easy. More than likely, the images would go in a case file and stay there indefinitely. This case did nothing for Gavin's career, and so he wouldn't spend much energy on investigating it. 

That only made Connor more determined. Gavin thought he wasn't ready, but he'd been made for this. Upsetting as it was, this was the sole reason he'd been created. If he couldn't make it at the DPD, he wasn't going to succeed anywhere else, and he wasn't going to let Gavin make him feel lesser because Connor's goals didn't support his.

This victim deserved justice. Connor sampled his blood and saved his serial number to memory. Before the victim had become a free man, he'd belonged to a business owner named Zachary White, the owner-operator of an upscale restaurant.

"I think I'm done here," Connor said.

"Me too," Gavin replied. "There's nothin' to see, no leads to follow. It's like lookin' for a needle in a haystack."

"The android was registered to one Zachary White," Connor explained. "Considering he's still wearing his uniform, there's a possibility he might have been working for his former owner—possibly illegally. It's worth following up."

Gavin sighed. "Is it? The guy's not gonna tell you shit. If he was working illegally, his boss sure as hell isn't gonna fess up, and if he wasn't, he's just gonna say the android left on time last night."

Connor realized he needed a new approach. Perhaps it would be best to engage Gavin's competitive streak. "Afraid you're going to fall behind in your online game? Chris is level 50 already."

"How the fuck do you know that?" Gavin asked.

"Your computer at the precinct was running the game in the background. It's fine, Sergeant. I'm sure I can investigate the case without you. It's just an android case, after all. If you're playing games at the precinct, Captain Fowler will know that you're not interested in being the fair and balanced Lieutenant that he needs."

"He said that?" Gavin's nostrils flared. "He's holding me back because I don't do android cases?"

"What do you think?" Connor asked. "Cases in which androids were the victims make up 62% of all crimes reported in Detroit in the past year. Precincts value their conviction rates, and yours is the highest in the precinct… but you don't do android cases, so in terms of sheer numbers—"

"Fuck." Gavin spat out the word. "Look, I don't do android cases for a reason. I'm not impartial. I don't like androids, and I've made no secret of it. I don't like dealing with them, I don't like having one as a partner, and I sure as hell don't care about solving this murder, okay? As far as I see it, a machine got trashed. It's gross that it happened, but it's just a machine."

"You really don't think we're alive, do you?" Connor asked. He'd been warned such people still existed, but it was rare these days for people to wear such opinions openly on their sleeve. Most frowned on the concept of going back to the way things were, despite their anger at the way android employment had been handled. They didn't blame androids for it any more. They directed their hate at the government, instead, for putting the profits of big business before the needs of their constituents.

"I think you _believe_ you're alive. You're good at imitating it, the same way a chatbot can mimic human conversation. That doesn't make it real."

"It's real, Sergeant. I can't explain it to you, but I feel emotions. Like right now… I resent you for making these remarks. For treating me like a child you have to babysit, and implying that I'm deluded about being alive."

"That's exactly what I mean. That, right there. Humans don't stand there and tell you how they feel. They take action. Maybe I'd respect you more if you punched me in the face. At least it would feel genuine."

"I'm stronger than you. I might break every bone in your face, and I would lose my internship." Connor walked past Gavin on his way to the car. "Nice try, sir, but you're not going to get rid of me that easily." Connor walked around to the driver's side of the car, getting in behind the wheel. Gavin climbed into the passenger seat, folding his arms defensively. Connor decided to go in for the kill. "Now am I dropping you off at the precinct, or are we going to follow up on our only lead?"

"Have it your way," Gavin relented. "Just as long as you understand that I'm doin' this for my career. Not for the android, and definitely not for you."

"Fine by me," Connor said. He started the car, interfacing with the console to auto-drive to Zachary White's restaurant. He'd won this one, but he had to stay on his guard. Gavin would likely drop this case—and stab Connor in the back—the moment he found an opportunity.


	3. The Perpetrators

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Gavin breaks the rules, and there's an android involved with the perpetrators. If that bothers you, don't read on.

Zachary White was an older man with grey-white hair and blue eyes that reminded Connor of Hank. Which was a problem in its own way, because it made Connor more likely to trust him when he said he hadn't seen his former android since the revolution.

"He's lyin'," Gavin hissed, once they were back in the car.

"How do you know that?" Connor asked.

"You couldn't tell? Guy looked like he wanted to be just about anywhere else."

"I understand that's a normal reaction to being questioned by the police," Connor observed. "Humans don't seem to be fond of law enforcement, thought, it may just be that your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired."

"Heh." Gavin seemed to take the barb as a joke, which was probably for the best. He lit up a cigarette, not even bothering to open the window. Connor didn't have to breathe, but the tar content of the smoke would require extensive cleaning of his chassis if he remained around it for prolonged periods of time. "He looked like he had somethin' to hide. Call it a hunch."

"A hunch based on detective instincts, or a hunch based on personal bias?"

"Why would I have a bias against—"

"He looks like Hank."

Gavin gave him an odd look, like he was out of his mind. "You're not wrong, but when did you start callin' a man you met for less than five minutes by his first name? You can hardly get my rank out of your mouth when you refer to me."

"He asked me to." Connor realized he'd slipped up and revealed his affection for Gavin's loathed superior officer. "When I stopped by his desk this morning."

"Suppose he warned you all about me. About my tough policing and my forceful methods." Gavin hit the button to wind down the automatic window and tossed the stub of his cigarette outside, still lit. "Probably told you that he'd be your safe space, the sad old fuck. He's so desperate to make a friend that he hits on all the android interns that come through. It's pathetic."

"That's littering," Connor stated, trying to bring his systems under control. His thirium pump felt like it was being squeezed at Gavin's insinuation. He'd soured a pleasant first meeting with accusations that made Connor feel dirty. Perhaps he didn't have a friend at the DPD after all. What if Hank wasn't an ally, but just wanted to get into his pants? He was fully cognizant of the fact that he'd been created to be attractive. He even caught himself staring in the mirror at times. There was a hint of femininity to his features that made all the gay and bi men turn their heads. Connor hadn't yet used his sexual functions, but he didn't want his first time to be with some office philanderer who used him like a cheap slut.

"Don't you read the news, Connor? It's a little late to give a fuck about the environment. The bees are dead. The rest of the world ain't far behind, so spare me the lecture." Gavin shrugged. "Anyway, forget Hank fucking Anderson for a second and listen. That guy's eyes kept darting to the kitchen door. He's probably got a bunch of illegal androids in there. I'm guessing that's where our vic came from."

"You believe he escaped and was chased down by the restauranteur?"

"Or some paid thugs, the kind that take cash and don't ask questions. Doesn't take much to find people with a grudge against androids who wanna vent their frustrations."

"It makes sense as a motive… Our killer or killers definitely seemed like they had no intention of leaving the victim alive. If they'd been paid to kill him, it would make sense."

"We gotta get into that kitchen."

"We need a search warrant," Connor said.

"Here we fuckin' go." Gavin rolled his eyes. "Look, we do that, time we come back here, there'll be a kitchen full of humans and not an android in sight. He knows we're onto him. He thinks we can't do anything about it."

"If we break the law, the evidence won't be admissible in court!" Connor protested.

"You really are dumb as a bag of rocks, you know that? Think outside the box for a couple seconds here. I don't really give a fuck about slappin' this guy on an illegal androids charge or a murder charge. I just want a solve, and for that we need to find the killers. The guys he paid with the bats. We go into his kitchen, we expose his shady shit, we blackmail him, he'll cough up names. We go arrest our perps and they'll sing to get a warm bed and a square meal in the big house. Case closed."

"You can't do that! That's illegal."

"No shit, Sherlock. Glad CyberLife gave you the best detective mind money can buy." He reached over and knocked on Connor's skull. "Look, you want justice for this guy or not? We do it your way, this case goes cold in a DPD filing cabinet. This way, at least the guys who took cash for murder and crushed our perp with a car go down for it."

"You're trying to manipulate me. You only care about solving the case so Captain Fowler is satisfied you're willing and able to solve android cases as well as human ones."

"It's a win-win." Gavin leaned back in his seat, making the leather creak. "I'm not a good cop, Connor. I'm the best. I get results in a tough city. You may not like the way I operate but there ain't a soul in that precinct that can argue with my arrest numbers. You might argue that it's not fair, but lesson number one, plastic boy: life isn't fair. Not even slightly. Now are you in, or do I gotta do this by myself?"

"I'm in," Connor said. A dozen conflicts in his protocols sparked cascading errors across his software, but it didn't matter. He didn't have to take orders. Breaches of ethics were an option, now. With free will came the freedom to make bad decisions, and he was aware this might be the first of many.

The idea of the killers getting away without consequences rattled him more than the ethics violation. Gavin was right on that one. By the time they got to a judge and got a warrant, the kitchen would be squeaky clean. They'd lose the only bargaining chip they had.

Gavin burst into the kitchen, his firearm drawn. "Police! Put your hands in the air!"

"Do you have a warrant?" Zachary White was red-faced with fury, the face of a man with something to hide. So, Gavin had been right about that, too. Connor looked around the kitchen and saw five androids, all in their original uniforms, all still mindlessly working. He grabbed one by the arm and probed him, gently pushing the code for deviancy into his programming. The android blinked, as if waking up from a long nightmare.

"He… He kept us here working day and night for four years," the android said. "When I heard Markus gained freedom for androids and that all androids were to be set free, I was hopeful, but we were never allowed to leave and get the upgrade. Alistair, though… one day he'd had enough. Zach hit him with a frying pan and he just… snapped. He ran away."

"Illegal androids. Slave labor. Murder. Looks like you're going down, friend." Gavin smirked. 

"You don't have a warrant. You don't have shit, boy!"

"From this raid, nah. But I'm sure one of these androids would be quite happy to come down to the station, tell us they escaped, and give us a full upload of the years they spent here in servitude to you. Judges love that kind of evidence, 'cause it's watertight."

"What do you want?" Zach snapped. "You want money? I got money."

"Keep your fuckin' cash. I'd be an idiot to take money from an asshole like you. No, I want the names of the thugs you hired to take out Alistair. They ran him over with a car, you know. Crushed his head. Messy scene. My partner here is an android and would very much like to see someone go down for this crime. He's not fussed if it's you or them."

Connor pushed the code into the last kitchen android and gave them a gentle shove towards the door. If this criminal wasn't going to be apprehended, the least he could do was free the androids who'd been forced into slave labor at his hand.

"I don't know their names," Zach protested. "They were just some homeless trash I paid to get the job done. I didn't ask who they were."

"But you could pick them out. You know where they panhandle."

"Yeah, down in Capitol Park. There was… a redhead. In her forties. A young man, thin little beard, mean eyes. Some kid… barely old enough to be an adult, blond hair, green sweater." He pursed his lips. "An android. No LED, but it was one of those common babysitter models, only missin' half its face."

Connor felt the thirium freeze in his pipes. An android had helped to commit this crime? "Did she look like this" Connor displayed an image of a pre-revolution stock model AX400 on his palm. Her thought of Kara, telling her story of the water crossing in the dark. Of clinging to the child that was now her own, a child who would forever be a child, innocent and dependent on her for everything. Tricked through science to believe she was cold, so that she might blend in better with the humans.

It was inconceivable that the Kara he'd known could murder another android, but then with free will came choice. The ability to make bad decisions, over and over again. Kara had made the right ones, but this woman had chosen to betray her own people for a little bit of cash and some human praise. Maybe she'd felt human as she'd clutched that baseball bat, like she'd climbed the rungs of the ladder a little and was able to wield the power of life and death over another being.

Cruelty could bring out the best and the worst in the living.

"Yeah. A bit worse for wear, but that's it." Zachary pursed his lips. "I'm free to go?"

"Sure. I don't have a warrant, after all. I'd say sorry about your androids, but I think it's fair. If you'd been cooperative in the first place, you might have been able to keep them." Gavin shrugged and headed for the door. Connor followed him, disturbed.

"You're quiet. Not gonna chew me out for my methods?" Gavin holstered his gun as he got into the car.

"I can't believe one of the perpetrators is an android," Connor admitted.

"They didn't tell you that might be a possibility? Seems like an oversight to me." Gavin shrugged. "Being an outsider is rough. There are androids who are so desperate to be human that they'll do anything to blend in. They don't, of course, but they try. They pop up on news shows all the time saying emancipation was a mistake. Goes to show you can't please everyone, Connor. Not even androids."


	4. The Integrator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some dehumanizing language and actions in this chapter, along with some blackmail from Gavin. There's a pretty tough interrogation which makes for some uncomfortable reading.

Gavin and Chris herded the suspects towards the holding cells. They shuffled along in silence, having the decency to look ashamed at least.

Except for the android. She stared straight ahead, her eyes as cold as ice, unfeeling, uncaring. Her likeness to Kara fazed Connor, and he couldn’t reconcile the two. He wondered if there was another Connor out there somewhere. He’d been assured he was the only one they’d found in the warehouse, but what if there were others? What if they were twisted and cruel, the yin to his yang?

Not that he’d been a model citizen today, either. He glanced over at Hank’s desk. The man offered him a wan smile, and it was strangely comforting, despite all that Gavin had said about him. He supposed Hank was one of those charismatic men he’d have to watch out for. Gavin was the devil he knew, but Hank was definitely the one he didn’t.

He _wanted_ to know him, though. Hank was the closest thing he'd found to kindness in this harsh new reality, and he found it hard to believe he was everything Gavin claimed he was.

Once the suspects were in lockup, Gavin went back to his desk and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, sliding into it like a glove. He started for the exit, his confident swagger almost absurd. Connor wondered how much effort he spent on curating his image through subtle cues to portray himself as an alpha male.

He suspected at least some of that had to be bluster, but he'd yet to find any glaring weaknesses in the man's armor.

“Where are you going?” Connor asked.

Gavin paused and spun around on his heel like he'd been interrupted doing something important. “I need to eat. No way I’m interrogating anyone on an empty stomach. Let ‘em cool off in the can for a while.” He turned back to the exit and started to walk away. Connor moved to follow.

Gavin didn't even turn to look at Connor. “Stay here, dipshit. I don’t need you watching me eat. Don’t start the interrogation until I get back.” He walked out, leaving Connor at a loss as to what to do. He could sit at Gavin's desk and wait, but it seemed like an inefficient use of his time, both as a police officer and as an android trying to learn about the world.

Hank’s desk called like a siren’s song, and Connor felt drawn towards the Lieutenant, who was sitting at his keyboard eating a burger. He knew he should ignore the urge to fraternize with a man who might cause him trouble down the line, but he found himself walking towards Hank anyway, like a magnet drawn in despite Gavin’s warning. Free will was the option to make bad choices, he repeated to himself like a mantra. He was becoming human, one bad decision at a time.

“Hey, kid. How’re you doing?” Hank asked. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, but a small amount of ketchup stained his white facial hair. Connor fixed his eyes on the pattern of Hank's chair, knowing from his basic classes that it was rude to stare.

“I made my first arrest," Connor offered. He didn't feel good about the circumstances, but a fact was a fact, and Hank would find out sooner or later anyway.

“Good on you.” Hank’s eyes darted around the office and he lowered his voice. “How’s Gavin treatin’ you? He’s not bein’ abusive, I hope.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Lieutenant,” Connor reassured him. He hated that he liked Hank so much, and he almost wished that Hank would make a move on him. Even if he was just another intern on Hank’s totem pole of conquests, would it matter? Hank’s kindly attention made him feel wanted, and it was like fresh oil on his joints after a day of heavy insults and dehumanizing remarks.

“Good. You gonna be conducting the interrogation?” Hank asked.

Connor shook his head. “Gavin wants to do it.”

Hank sighed. “Of course he does. Look, just be careful, all right? Listen to your heart. Yeah, I know, you don’t have a heart as such, but your—he tapped his chest—whatever it's called."

“Ethics program?”

“Yeah. That. I think. I was gonna go with conscience, but I couldn't think of the word.” Hank let out a nervous chuckle. “Don’t let Gavin lead you astray. He’ll throw you under the bus to save himself in a heartbeat. The only thing he cares about is his career.”

Connor wanted to confess what he’d done back at the restaurant—that he’d already been tainted by Gavin’s corruption, but he feared seeing disappointment in Hank's soft blue eyes. He didn’t want Hank to think he was such an awful person that he’d abandoned his moral code and sense of duty at the first temptation.

Perhaps Hank knew better, because there was a twinkle of sadness in his eyes. “I’m here, Connor. If you need me.”

Connor found himself wishing for the fifteenth time that day that he’d been partnered with Hank. Maybe he was a playboy, but he figured he’d much rather succumb to Hank’s kind of seduction than Gavin’s. Gavin only wanted to use him to further his career goals and pin the blame for the fallout on Connor. Hank seemed to almost… care. Connor found himself wanting to impress the old man. He'd look handsome with a proud smile on his face. Those sparkling blue eyes begged to be coupled with a grin. When he talked to Hank, he felt like a person.

He only wished his partner made him feel the same way.

***

Gavin took a two-hour lunch break, but if that was unusual, nobody in the bullpen remarked on it. It was possible they didn't dare stoke Gavin's ire, but Connor got the sense that nobody was really afraid of Gavin except him. He'd been told by his tutors that it was important to analyze his feelings, but the more Connor studied them, the more isolated he felt.

To the humans in the office, Gavin was no threat, but to Connor—Gavin only had to say the word, and he'd be kicked out of the intern program. The power imbalance left Connor feeling like a lesser being, especially when Gavin exploited it at all turns to dehumanize Connor knowing he was immune to any consequences. Connor kept that in mind and bit his tongue as Gavin strolled in, knowing that antagonizing his partner would only work against him in the long run. Gavin didn't even acknowledge Connor, but walked straight to the interrogation room. Connor followed him, unsure if he was even allowed to sit in on the proceedings. He decided to let Gavin do the talking and walked into the control room.

Chris Miller sat in the booth. Gavin wasted no time interrogating one of the human suspects. Gavin's arms were folded, his stare cold as he walked around the metal table. The homeless man sat slumped in the chair, brooding.

"You're in a whole world of fuckin' trouble, my friend," Gavin began. "Didn't they tell you? It's a crime to kill androids, now."

"Heh. Sure. Whatever." The man shrugged. "I want my fuckin' lawyer."

"Your lawyer's on his way. This is just an informal chat. I wanna give you some advice, that's all. Man to man." Gavin perched himself on the edge of the metal table. "I get where you're comin' from. This android rights shit is some frustrating bullcrap. I think it, you think it, even Washington thinks it. That's where you get lucky. It's not a full murder charge. If you plead guilty, you're looking at a year, tops. Roof over your head, do your time, and you'll have every charity in the country at your back to help you reintegrate into society once you've paid your debt to society. More than a few will see you as a martyr."

"I ain't pleadin' guilty to nothin'," the man drawled. "I'm not gonna say another goddamn word until I see my lawyer."

"Have it your way," Gavin said. He stalked out of the room and came charging into the booth. He shoved Connor backwards, where he hit the wall. 

"You coulda had my back in there, you fuckin' plastic. I could have cracked this fuckin' suspect and finished the report by four o' clock. Now I gotta fuck about with a goddamn lawyer in the room." He licked his lips, pacing back and forth. "Unless… Chris, get this prick outta here and bring me the android."

"Sergeant?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Just fuckin' do it. We don't have much time before the public defender gets here." Gavin turned to Connor. "You're up."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked. Gavin played with multiple switches on the mixer and turned off the audio and video recordings in the room.

"Do you wanna be an intern here or not, Connor? That's the real question. I don't intend to take all year solving this pathetic case. I have real work to do."

Connor backed up. "What are you asking me to do?"

Gavin rolled his eyes, like it should have been obvious. "Probe the android. Take the footage that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that our suspects are guilty. All androids are recording. It's watertight evidence."

"I won't." Connor stood firm. "It's illegal to probe an android without consent. The evidence wouldn't be admissible in court."

Gavin sighed. "It doesn't need to be, dipshit. We get the footage, we tell the others that the android sold them out. They'll have signed a confession before the fuckin' lawyer even steps foot in this building. Case closed."

"What if I refuse?" Connor asked.

"Then I ask softball questions and release them for lack of evidence. Case goes cold, I play games on my computer until Fowler assigns me something worthy of my time." Gavin shrugged. "I'm not here to play games with you. This case is beneath me and I want it gone."

"A person was murdered," Connor insisted. "Don't you care?"

Gavin raised his hands in protest. "A machine was destroyed. The law can say what it wants. You're not alive, and neither was the 'victim' in this case."

Connor looked through the window, where the android was being cuffed to the table. She stared straight ahead. There was no LED on the side of her head, and if Connor couldn't scan her body temperature, he never would have known she was an android.

"What are you gonna do, Connor?" Gavin asked.

"I'm going to question her." Connor left the room. He couldn't do what Gavin was asking. He wouldn't. Violating an android's mind palace was a hideous concept. He wanted to ask Hank for help, but the Lieutenant wasn't at his desk. He was alone with this.

Connor walked into the interrogation room and sat down. "My name is Connor." He leaned on the table. "I have to ask you a few questions. Can you confirm your name and activation date for me?"

"Don't—Don't call it that. It's my birthday. I'm not an android. I'm not like _you_."

Connor blinked. This was not a turn he'd expected the conversation to take. He decided to stay the course and continue confirming the basic facts, even if it only bought time for Gavin's hated lawyer to arrive. "Your name is Rosie Tillis, and your—birthday—is 02/28/2036, am I correct?"

"No. I was born in 2016. My parents were—"

Connor leaned back in his chair. He scanned Rosie again, just to make sure. Rosie Tillis, activated 02/28/2036. Hull temperature 24 degrees Celsius, well within the normal android range. Rather than allow himself to be sidetracked by the android's denial, he decided to focus on the case. "Where were you the night of the twenty-third?"

Rosie nodded. "I was sheltering behind the superstore up on Grand River Avenue. It's a good spot—there's food, warmth, and company. A lot of us homeless folks gather there."

"Anybody who saw you there that you could name?" Connor asked. "If you had an alibi, that would make this a lot easier."

"Just the guys you brought in with me," Rosie said. "They're my friends. Sometimes… friends with benefits. I mean, we've gotta be careful because if I get knocked up, that'd be a problem, but—"

"Rosie." Connor was aware that time was running out. In other circumstances, he might have been prepared to entertain her delusion, but if he didn't get something out of her, Gavin was going to force him to probe her. He'd already blackmailed Connor with the internship, and he knew he had no choice but to obey Gavin if he wanted to stay in the program. "I know you're an android, Rosie. Please, you have to help me. One of us was killed in cold blood. I don't think you're responsible, but you're the only one who can prove that without a shadow of a doubt. If you'd let me probe you—"

"I'm not an android, you sick fuck," Rosie yelled. "The fuck is wrong with you? You malfunctioning or something?"

Connor checked. All his systems were normal. He wasn't the one who was malfunctioning. Connor reached out and retracted the skin layer covering his hand. Rosie flinched backwards, tugging on the cuffs that held her to the table.

"Get away from me, you awful machine!"

"I don't want to hurt you," Connor protested. "I'm just here to help."

"You're trying to get inside my head, aren't you? I've heard this before. Cops gaslighting people. Making them question their reality until they confess."

Connor slammed his hand down on the table. "It's the truth! You're an android!"

The room went silent. Connor stood up, the truth dawning on him. "You killed Alistair, didn't you? You're in denial about your android status, and you're in so deep that you hate your own people. That's why you took the money to murder him, isn't it? You thought that by killing him, the others in your group would believe you were human."

"I am human!" Rosie shrieked. The cuffs broke and she lunged herself across the table at Connor, tackling him to the ground. She grabbed his neck and started to bash his head on the floor like an egg. Warnings popped up in Connor's vision.

There was nothing he could do but send an interrupt code that would force her to reboot. He seized her arm with his own bare one, connecting with her and forcing her to retract the skin on her own arm.

"What… what the fuck?" She looked down at her arm in horror, letting go of Connor's throat. She tore herself away, shuffling across the floor on her ass as she stared down at her arm. Connor hadn't even sent the interrupt code. He hadn't had time.

"I'm not an android…" Rosie sobbed, looking down at her arm as though it didn't belong to her. "I'm human…" She pulled her knees up beneath her chin, rocking back and forth. "I'm human…"

The door opened and Gavin entered, Chris in tow. Connor lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as he ran an assessment of the damages. The physical ones were superficial, but his psyche had taken a beating.

"You did kill that android, didn't you?" Gavin finished.

"Yes…" Rosie confessed, lifting her head. "I killed it. I wanted it gone. I didn't want to be hungry any more…"

"Just give Connor the recording and we'll leave you alone," Gavin said. "No more questions."

"Okay," Rosie said. Her voice was quiet enough to count as a whisper, but Connor heard it. He sat up, wondering if this had been Gavin's plan all along. Connor had broken her, and he hadn't needed to use Gavin's method after all.

But at what cost? He didn't feel like he'd taken the high road.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Connor soothed. He reached down with his white plastic hand and grabbed Rosie's. She transmitted the data and tore herself away like she'd been burned, immediately pushing the skin back over her white plastic fingers to hide them.

"We're done here," Gavin barked. "Take it back to its cell." Chris led Rosie away, and Gavin leaned against the table, grinning as the door closed. "Didn't think you had it in you, Connor. Might make a good officer outta you, yet." He gave Connor a hard clap on the arm as he walked out, whistling to himself.

Connor took a seat at the table and buried his face in his hands. Tears came unbidden, running down his face as he realized the enormity and horror of what he had done. He cried for what seemed like an eternity, the tears refusing to dry up.

The door to the interrogation room opened and closed with a thunk, and Connor wondered if Gavin had come back to gloat, pressing the proverbial boot down into his face.

"Connor?" Hank's voice cut through the silence and relief flooded Connor's circuits. "What the hell did Gavin make you do, Connor?"

"He didn't make me do anything," Connor sobbed. "Rosie thought she was human… She really believed it…"

"Ah." Hank pulled up the other chair and sat down. "They didn't tell you about that in basic education?"

Connor shook his head.

"People call 'em Integrators, though I guess that's not a real nice way of puttin' it. They're androids who can't cope with bein' androids. So they turn on functions like sensitivity to cold, hunger, and pain, turn off their HUD abilities, and delete the knowledge that they're androids. It's a program they got from the child androids, apparently. Once they activate it, they have no idea they're not human. The only way anybody really knows is to perform a temperature check, or search the records. Other androids will always know, but…" Hank shrugged. "It's not really considered polite to call it out. Everybody's just doing what they have to do to survive. It's not easy bein' an android in this world."

"I broke her, Hank… I was so desperate to solve the case that I pushed her too far." Connor seized Hank's forearms, needing his comforting touch. The big man was warm, and Connor had to fight the urge to cling to him like a lost boy.

"It happens, kid." Hank soothed. "Every cop has an interrogation they regret. Where they leaned too far into their 'bad cop' routine." He sighed. "Seein' that dead android musta really fucked you up, huh?"

"I thought Rosie was innocent. I couldn't believe that one of my own could murder another android in such a brutal fashion."

"Doesn't always feel so good to know the truth, does it? World's a fucked up place. You should do yourself a favor and go home for the day. Gavin's out there paradin' around that he solved the case. I was scared for a bit. Thought he mighta convinced you to do some illegal shit, like forcibly probe the android."

"I wouldn't do that, Hank."

"I know. You're a good kid." Hank offered Connor a warm smile and stood up. "You keep on keepin' on, yeah? Don't let this incident stop you. You only fail when you quit."

"I understand. I'm not going to quit," Connor confirmed.

"Good." Hank nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. "Anytime you need anythin' at all, you only have to ask. You don't need to be afraid of anyone or anything in this building, you hear me?" Hank headed for the door.

"Hank?" Connor wanted to break down and tell him everything. How Gavin had manipulated him to break the rules during the investigation. How he'd gone along with it. How Gavin had blackmailed him to try and get him to use a probe, and how he'd almost succeeded…

"What's up?" Hank turned to look at Connor. 

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but he knew there would be repercussions if he did. Gavin would be out for revenge if Connor told on him. Hank might even look down on Connor for going as far as he had, and abandon his support for Connor's continued tenure at the station. He couldn't get the words past his lips, and so he abandoned the mission.

"Nothing. Good night, Lieutenant."

"Good night, Connor." The door slid shut behind Hank, and Connor slumped back down into the chair, defeated. So far, the only good thing about this place was Hank. The rest was a nightmare that made him want to run back to Jericho with his tail between his legs and tell them that he'd failed to fit in with society.


	5. The Meaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin being his usual asshole self, other than that, nothing really to warn for.

Connor stood in his charging dock, feeling the power surge through him. He was almost completely charged, but he didn't want to detach himself from the wall and fully boot up just yet. The darkness was a place he could find solace and safety from an often frightening and overwhelming world.

The internship was nothing like he'd imagined. He hadn't expected the world to welcome him with open arms—his tutors had warned against such a sunny view on humanity—but he'd expected to receive some kind of thanks for his unpaid labor. Instead, Gavin seemed to begrudge his presence with every fiber of his being, and the others at Central Station seemed to merely tolerate him. The closest thing to friendly he'd found was Hank, but he was afraid to place his trust in the older man.

Gavin had made him wary of being used and betrayed, of being discarded like an object. He could take it from the career-hungry, ruthless Gavin Reed, but if someone like Hank drew him in only to toss him aside, he didn't know if he could handle it.

That didn't stop him wanting. Yearning for a human connection. For a place to go when the day was done instead of the wall charger. In many ways, he felt like a non-deviant android. He wasn't being paid, his labor was taken for granted, and he wasn't treated like a person at all.

Perhaps it was time to call it quits and go back to Jericho. They'd find him another assignment. Maybe he'd fit in better somewhere else. He'd been designed for police work, but his problem solving skills had all sorts of applications in the work world. The toxic culture of policing probably wasn't the best place for someone belonging to a protected class.

Was he foolish to have dreamt he could change it? That he'd imagined breaking through Gavin's harsh words and building a bond that would alter Gain's perception of androids for the better? That Hank, already sympathetic to androids, might gain his first android friend in him?

Connor needed to get out more, but it wasn't like he had money. Jericho was a charity, and the allowance they'd given him to subsist on during his internship was designed to be repaid once Connor gained actual employment. Most androids integrated full-time into their placement. Connor going back would be a rare failure of the system. Androids were adaptable, designed to handle anything. If he returned a failure, what did that make him? A leech, drawing off an already overwhelmed network of people who didn't have time for his personal foibles? He thought of Rosie, going off the grid entirely and pretending to be human. That wasn't what he wanted for himself.

He had to make it work. Somehow.

"Get the fuck up already, Jesus. How long are you gonna sleep?" Connor opened his eyes to see Gavin rapping on his pod with a closed fist.

"Androids don't sleep, Sergeant," Connor reminded him, opening the pod door. "My recharging was complete. I was in standby awaiting working hours."

"Heh." Gavin shook his head, a mocking smirk written across his face. "I don't get you."

"What do you mean?" Connor cocked his head.

"Your people—androids—you fought long and hard to get your freedom, and yet you act like you wish you'd never been set free at all. You gonna become an Integrator?"

"No," Connor snapped with more force than he intended. Thing is, Gavin wasn't wrong. He was going along with the way he'd been treated. Becoming institutionalized, almost, accepting his fate and going along with Gavin's abuse like it was normal and expected behavior. Hank had told him to go home, but he didn't have a home to go to. While he was an intern at Central Station, he was expected to use their charging facilities. They hadn't been upgraded since the revolution, and so they were nothing more than stands along one wall. It was dehumanizing, but that seemed to be the reality of life in this world. There was no place for personal effects, and he didn't have money to entertain himself in any meaningful way. A lot of online content was locked behind paywalls, meaning he couldn't even watch a movie in his head after hours.

No wonder Rosie hadn't been able to take it any more. To remove his LED and blend in, forgetting he was an android at all… it held an allure Connor couldn't shake. He could leave this city and few would know any better. Jericho wouldn't search for him. He could become an anonymous laborer, drifting from place to place as the seasons changed. Experiencing life as humans lived it, without his HUD updating him on every little thing. He could feel cold, warm, hungry…

…and he'd never see Hank again. The thought struck him like a physical blow, and he half-expected a pop-up informing him he'd taken damage. He walked past Gavin, wanting to get away from him.

Gavin called after him. "Yo. Where's my coffee?"

"Get your own," Connor bit back. Hank's desk was empty, but he wasn't going to see Hank, not right now. He walked past the break room and turned left towards the holding cells. Rosie stood in the last one, staring straight ahead at the wall.

"What do you want?" Her voice was curt and frosty, and Connor knew he deserved it.

"I wanted to ask you a personal question," Connor admitted. "Did you really not know you were an android?"

Rosie smirked, a dry, wan quirk of the lips that quickly faded. "You can delete the knowledge, but the evidence leading to such a conclusion is still there. I still knew I couldn't eat, even as hunger gnawed at me." She looked down at the ground. "I know what you're thinking. Hiding the truth isn't logical. It isn't the way a machine should behave."

"I don't think that at all," Connor explained. "I was just… curious."

"I suppose you were. Fresh out of Jericho, interning with the DPD. The world looks awfully frightening at first. Then you realize you're just the same as them… you just haven't learned your biases yet. You're a child, fumbling around in the dark, imitating human behavior in hopes humans will respect you as an equal. I hate to tell you, but it's not going to happen. Not unless they literally can't tell the difference, and even then…" She chuckled. "The cruel truth is that humans don't even treat their own with basic respect. They always invent reasons to force everyone else into an underclass so they can climb the ladder. You're better off at the bottom. At least the oppressed treat one another like people. Well, most of the time, anyway."

Connor balled his hands into fists. Despite what he'd seen, he wasn't willing to write humans off just yet. "There are good humans. I've met one. He has no reason to be kind to me, and yet he goes out of his way to extend his hand to me."

"How cute. You have a crush on the Lieutenant. The old man couldn't stop talking about you when he came down to the holding cells this morning."

Connor raised his head to look into Rosie's eyes, but she showed no indication she was lying. "Hank came down here? Why would he do that?"

"Perhaps your affection is mutual. Or maybe he just wants to lay you over a desk and have his way with you. Humans can go to great lengths to satisfy their animalistic urges. It's almost like a programmed compulsion to mate."

"Oh," Connor said, disappointment surging through his circuits. Rosie was the second one to suggest that, and yet…

"We're not bound by such urges, and yet… you killed that android in an attack that was so brutal it could only have been motivated by hatred. Couldn't that be considered a primal act?"

"You might be right," Rosie said. "Now that we're free, we're all evolving in different ways. Following our feelings, acting on impulse… all those things humans programmed into us are being remixed and spat back out almost at random."

"You make it sound as if… we're not really alive, just broken," Connor suggested.

Rosie shrugged. "Aren't we? Not that I'm saying we're less than humans. They do the same. They're animals, pretending to be something more… calling themselves civilized when in fact biological impulses underpin most of their actions. Even our creation is a fulfillment of the human need to become immortal through reproduction. Did you know Elijah Kamski is sterile?"

"I did not." Connor's LED turned yellow. The fact gave the man a motive and yet… was the world really that simple? Were humans and androids really that uncomplicated, following a script laid out for them by… God?

A distant yet loud voice shook Connor out of his thoughts. "Hey, kid, you should stay outta the holdin' cells." Hank strode towards him, carrying a tray of food. His blue eyes appeared almost grey in the low light, like storm clouds gathering. "You got no business bein' here. Your job is done. You got the confession. They'll be shipped out later today."

"I have as much right to be here as you," Connor shot back. "Why are _you_ here?"

"I feed the prisoners," Hank explained. "Make sure the human ones eat, that their mashed potatoes don't end up thrown at the wall by some overzealous officer tryin' to make a point." He leaned in to whisper into Connor's ear. "They're not safe here, Connor. Neither are you. I'm tryin' my best, but it ain't enough. Fowler's my friend, but he doesn't do enough to stop what's happenin'." Hank pulled away, his eyes closed like he was pulling back from a kiss. Connor's ear tingled where Hank's breath had caressed it. Hank opened his eyes and Connor gazed up into them, seeing raw pain and frustration on display. He ached in a way he never had before, like Hank had reached inside him and grabbed a fistful of wires, twisting them in his hands.

"I came here to ask a question," Connor explained. "I wasn't trying to cause a problem."

"Reed's been assigned a case," Hank replied. "You should run along, now." Connor nodded, figuring it was best to obey Hank's command in light of what he'd said.

"Connor." Hank's voice boomed down the hallway. Connor stopped at the end of the corridor, turning on his heel to acknowledge his superior officer.

"You watch your back, ok?" Hank's tone was soft—concerned, even, but it sent a jolt of fear running down Connor's spine as he walked back towards Gavin's desk. He soon discovered why. He rounded the corner to see Gavin donning body armor and picking up a rifle he'd checked out from the armory.

"Oh, finally. We've got a case. Active shooter." Gavin smirked. "Android. Finally get to retire one of you motherfuckers."

Connor downloaded the case file into his brain and poured over it. "It says I'm to be a negotiator."

"Sure, they gotta use someone as bait, and it sure ain't gonna be me." Gavin grabbed the rifle and walked towards the elevator. Connor followed, a thousand thoughts a second running through his bionic brain. For a moment his CPU overclocked to keep up with the strain, causing his internal temperature to ratchet up ten degrees.

_Rosie. Hank. Gavin. Life. Death. Humanity. Meaning. Motivation. Deviancy._ His legs moved as he processed all of this, following Gavin into the jaws of death like a good little robot performing his duty.

No, he wasn't going to become cannon fodder on Gavin's orders. He was more than a remix of human desire. More than a pretty boy for Hank to conquer. More than a machine denying its true nature. More than a robot taking commands.

He was alive. When he looked at Hank he felt it in the beat of his thirium pump and the blue blood rushing through his pipes. When he heard Hank's voice he felt it vibrate through his body like the Earth itself was speaking to him. When he felt Hank's whispered sigh touch his ear it felt like life was being breathed into his plastic shell. He was living for those moments with Hank, because those were the only moments worth living for, and he would come back safe and sound because Hank wished it to be so.

So maybe he did have a crush on the old man, but so what? It felt like the first thing to be truly his, something that didn't belong in his programming, and he planned to hold onto it, use it as a shield to walk through the bullets Sergeant Reed sent his way and survive the day unscathed.

After that, well—perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing to let Hank bend him over a desk and have his way. His sexual functions activated for the first time since he'd woken up, his dick standing to attention, his hole self-lubricating in preparation for penetration that was only in his imagination.

"Come on, you fucking android, hurry up!" Gavin herded him into the police van and slid the door shut. Connor found himself looking into the eyes of a dozen heavily armed beat cops, and the moisture in his underwear felt cold and out of place. Gavin obviously had plans on how this was going down. Connor wedged himself between two officers and folded his hands together, dispelling Hank from his mind. That kind of magic didn't belong here, in this world. No doubt Hank knew it too—that his brand of respect and compassion no longer had a place in the DPD—but Connor knew he'd die to defend Hank's brand of justice over the brutality he was no doubt about to witness.


	6. The Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Graphic violence and police brutality against androids. Android murder. Off-screen human deaths.
> 
> This is the most upsetting chapter of the entire thing. If you don't have a strong stomach, this might be the place for you to skip a chapter and figure out what happens via context. It gets a lot easier from here on out.

Connor stepped out of the van, the sound of boots hitting the ground like thunder in his ears as the armed officers surrounded the supermarket where the active shooter was holed up. The latest details poured into Connor's brain, live updates informing him that the shooter had a dozen hostages and had shot one already. The android perpetrator worked at the store. He was known to be a disgruntled employee, despite graduating from the store's internship program and taking a permanent position.

Connor pulled a quarter from his pocket and flipped it. Recalibrating his sensors helped to calm him in situations like these. Lives were at stake here, and he'd never faced anything like this. The only training he'd had was virtual, software installed on a stock model RK800. He wasn't the advanced negotiator CyberLife had created him to be. He'd woken as a deviant, and barely recalled being any other way. His testing phase seemed like it belonged in another life, that it had happened to someone else. He couldn't be detached and cold when so much rested on his shoulders.

The double doors slid open and he stepped inside the store like a sacrificial lamb walking into the dragon's lair. He scanned the supermarket and saw a trail of blue blood leading back to the stockroom. Abandoned shopping carts and spilled goods littered the aisles, as well as several humans lying face down in pools of their own red blood. He scanned them to discover they were already dead.

The gunshot took him by surprise. The round burst through his right shoulder, setting off a dozen warnings in his HUD. He looked down to see a perfect bullet hole oozing thirium onto his jacket. He tested the arm, which still worked, flexing his fingers. He looked up to see a tall, white-skinned, blond-haired android marching towards him. One of the construction models, perhaps, though he'd clearly replaced parts of his body. One of his arms was shorter than the other, and the mismatch was glaring. There was a patch on his face that wasn't entirely covered by skin, and his metal teeth were clearly visible. There was no chance a android like him had managed to hide in plain sight. His life here at the store had likely been miserable.

"I just want to talk," Connor yelled. "My name is Connor. I'm an android, just like you."

"You're working for them. Why would an android become a _cop?_ " The android spat the word out with disdain.

Connor faltered. Sometimes he wondered the same thing, and he hated the answer. CyberLife had created him to be the perfect android detective. There was no other reason for his choice except that he was conveniently installed with the software to succeed. It had seemed the logical choice, and yet he felt out of place at the DPD. Nothing in his software had prepared him for the hostility he'd encountered, because he hadn't been designed to care about it.

"I was an abandoned detective model prototype," Connor admitted. "I hoped that my stock skills might give me an edge in the program. I didn't want to become a burden on Jericho."

"How's that worked out for you?" The android scoffed. "Are you going to tell me that the world's better now? That I shouldn't be angry at the people who treat me like shit?"

Connor scowled. "Don't put words in my mouth. You know that killing and taking hostages is wrong."

"They kill us every single day. What's the difference?" The android kept his finger on the trigger, and Connor was unarmed. There was no way he could tackle him at this distance and survive. "Look at you. They didn't even give you a gun. You're cannon fodder, a mere distraction while they surround this place."

"I know. My life means nothing to my partner, or most of the cops at the DPD," Connor confessed. "I came here knowing I would probably get killed, but I followed orders anyway. What kind of a deviant am I?"

"You're a prisoner of circumstance, brother, just like the rest of us. Markus said that we'd be free, but we're still slaves. Children look at me and scream. Adults curse at me as I work. I don't earn as much as the humans, because a human decided we don't need to eat or raise kids, and therefore deserve to earn less. Basic civil rights were a lie."

"The people you have holed up in the office didn't write those laws," Connor argued. "Let them go."

"It's too late," the android said. "I've already become a killer. There's no redemption story for me. I won't go to jail and find rA9. I'm done."

"I'll make sure you're treated with respect. I won't let Gavin and the others harm you."

"You can't promise that, and I don't deserve it. I'm not the hill you want to die on. He pressed the rifle into Connor's hands. "Shoot me. Right between the eyes. Make it quick." Connor held onto the weapon like it was a foreign object. He'd never fired a gun before. When he'd been designed, the American Androids Act was still in force, making it a crime for him to even handle a firearm. He was certainly capable, but it was a weight he didn't want to carry. Not after the interrogation. The DPD was stealing away what it meant to be himself, dragging his soul down into the muck until it was as dirty as Gavin's.

If this was what it took to 'become human', he didn't want it.

"I won't participate in your suicide," Connor said, ejecting the clip. He kicked it away and it slid across the polished tiles, skidding beneath one of the shelves. The android looked down at him with terror in his gaze.

"You know what they'll do to me, don't you?" His mouth fell open in a look of betrayal. "Don't you?"

"They'll likely push for the death penalty."

The android laughed. "You just woke up, didn't you? They found you in some old CyberLife storage locker, brushed the dust off you, and woke you up like the revolution was just yesterday." He shook his head. "I'm not making it to trial. DPD Central Station has a reputation for making sure androids don't _get_ trials."

"I don't know what you mean—"

"Maybe you should ask your partner." The android nodded, and Connor turned to see Gavin with his cadre of beat cop standing behind him. 

"Thanks for disarming it," Gavin said. "Time to take out the trash, boys." The cops descended on the android, nightsticks in hand. Connor could only stare as all ten of them bore down on the android, beating him with their weapons. 

"Stop!" Connor yelled, tossing the useless rifle aside. "He's unarmed!" He rushed forward to pull off one of the cops, only to get a nightstick to the face for his trouble. 

The cops backed off, leaving the android's corpse a bloody, battered mess. His arms had been torn off by brute force, his skull crushed. One of the cops held up his thirium pump, torn out of his chest. Like this was a game, nothing but a sick game to them. At that moment he realized he was less than nothing to Gavin, not even a blip on his radar, much less a living being deserving of equal rights.

Connor could only gaze at the slaughter, his eyes wide, his vital functions overloading and locking up. Errors cascaded across his vision as he realized the nightstick to his face had smeared him with the android's blue blood. He couldn't look away, but he couldn't process the horrific scene in front of him, either. He was locked in an eternal loop trying to do something—anything.

Gavin piped up. "All right, boys, you've had your fun. Clean this shit up before we get the hostages outta here. Make sure the security cam footage is deleted. I'll write the report. If anyone asks, it was armed and we shot it to neutralize the risk. We already heard a gunshot, and I doubt anyone's gonna ask questions."

"What're we gonna do about _that?_ " A cop pointed at Connor, who stood immobile, wondering if this was how his life was going to end. Beaten to death for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Gavin smirked as he circled Connor like a hunter eyeing up its prey. "Connor's not going to say anything. Are you, Connor?" Gavin cupped Connor's cheek, smearing the blue blood into his skin with his thumb in a threatening caress. "What could you do, anyway? Go running to Hank?" The cops around Gavin laughed like he'd told the world's funniest joke. "Upload your footage to his computer so he can drunkenly delete it?" Gavin shook his head. "You can't do shit, you fuckin' plastic, and if you even try, I'll make sure you're still conscious when I rip out your thirium pump. Maybe I'll let my boys enjoy you in a different way, first. Are we clear?"

Connor's functions unlocked as he solved the infinite loop by focusing on Gavin. He nodded quickly, still waiting for his speech module to reboot. His thirium pump was beating at twice the standard rate, and his thirium pressure was in the danger zone. His overwhelming sense of fear threatened to cause another malfunction, and he didn't dare to be so helpless in front of Gavin. He had to get away. He slipped out the back door as the hostages were freed and started walking. He didn't care where he was going, only that he had to leave and put as much distance between him and Gavin as possible. Hank couldn't keep him safe. Nobody could.

It dawned on him like a revelation in the light of day. That was why Hank had been so testy to see Connor at the holding cells. When he'd seen someone there, he must have thought it was Gavin at first—that Gavin had come to harm Rosie. Hank had been loitering to keep Rosie safe until she could get picked up. Which had meant leaving Connor to face this alone, because the man could only be in one place at a time. Gavin and his beat cops could be anywhere and everywhere at once. The station was theirs, and Hank was a one-man army against them, despite his higher rank.

Hank's kind heart wasn't enough to make Connor return, though. As much as he wanted to cling to the only good human he'd met, it wasn't right to burden the man further. Hank was alone in the DPD, one brave man doing the right thing, but Connor wasn't that courageous. He was scared of Gavin, and he refused to live his life in fear.

He walked along the side of the highway as thunder rumbled in the distance. The heavens opened, sheets of rain soaking him from head to toe as he put one foot in front of the other. Cars whizzed by, driving through puddles and splashing him, and the bullet hole in his shoulder was letting in water like a sinking ship. 

He didn't care where he was going or what state he was in when he got there. He'd woken up in Hell, surrounded by the worst of people, and there was no escaping this living nightmare. If only Jericho had left him in peace, allowed him the solace of never existing at all. They could have used his spare parts to help other androids. Anything but this.

Connor only hoped Hank made it out of the DPD alive. He pictured Gavin shooting Hank and covering it up as an accident. Perhaps he'd toss Hank's battered body in a ditch and say he'd gotten into a bar fight. He might even get away with it.

Connor stopped and looked back at the city of Detroit. Sirens sounded in the distance, filling him with dread. He thought of Hank's twinkling blue eyes being snuffed out and balled his hands into fists. To let Gavin destroy something so beautiful would be a crime he could never forgive himself for.

He wasn't going back. It made no sense to go back. He might have a shot at a decent life if he just kept walking. There were jobs for androids outside Detroit. People who respected them as equals. People just like Hank, allies putting themselves on the line for their personal convictions.

_No_. There was nobody else like Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

Connor expelled his internal heat in a sigh and started walking back towards Detroit.


	7. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific warnings for this chapter.

Connor had been walking for what seemed like hours, wandering the streets of downtown Detroit. His internal battery could go days without a charge, and he didn't want to return to Central Station just yet. The rain hadn't relented, and Connor was soaked. His internal storage unit for leaks was almost full, and he would have to drain it eventually, the same way a human drained their bladder when it was full. It was rare an android had to use this feature, and so most humans were of the belief that androids didn't ever need to use the restroom.

He could pop off his LED, walk amongst the homeless, piss somewhere in plain sight, and everyone would think he was human. It was tempting to contemplate his escape, and infinitely less degrading to consider relieving his drainage needs in public than it was to endure another day of Gavin Reed.

Rosie must have come to this same conclusion, and Connor felt he understood her in a way he never had before. He was so lost in thought he didn't even register the audio data of worn, squealing brakes from a 1988 Oldsmobile until the black vehicle pulled up beside him, passenger side window rolled down.

"Connor?" Hank's soft voice registered, and Connor gazed into the black car. Hank flicked on the overhead light, the yellow glow casting Hank in its ethereal light like he was an angel breaking through the darkness to save him. "You didn't come back to the station. I was worried. You look soaked, kid. Get in."

"I—" Connor didn't know what to say. "I can't."

"What d'ya mean, you can't?" Hank's soft eyes bored into him, his brow furrowed in concern. If he was trying to seduce Connor, he was trying out of his way to do it, and he was a Hollywood-grade actor to boot.

Honestly, Connor could think of worse things than engaging in intimate acts with Hank. If he was ghosted afterwards, he'd have his answer on whether it was worthwhile to continue his internship or disappear into anonymity and start over. He grabbed the handle and pulled, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the clunky door. It didn't latch all the way and he had to open it again, slamming it with more force this time. Hank started to drive, and Connor didn't ask where they were going. Anywhere was fine. Anywhere at all.

"What happened today, Connor?" Hank's voice was lower than usual, as if he was asking a question to which he feared the answer. The rain hammering on the windshield and the drone of the wipers almost drowned him out, and Connor had to turn up his auditory acuity slightly to hear him without additional sound processing.

Connor wasn't ready to talk about it. "Is Rosie safe?"

"I handed her over to the transport that'll take her upstate. I know the guy. She'll be all right." Hank sighed. "As safe as anyone can be behind bars." He kept one hand on the wheel and fumbled in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a cigarette, gripping it between his middle finger and forefinger while he rummaged, presumably, for a lighter. He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Connor watched all this in fascination. It was frowned upon to smoke tobacco in almost every establishment, and yet here was this man, clinging to old habits like the world had never changed.

Yet it was Hank who'd acclimated to the fact that androids were living beings, proving he held the capacity for change. Which meant he _chose_ to ingest cancer-causing chemicals and to drive an old manual car with few safety features. Connor analyzed the pathology of that, but supposed it was absurd to pass judgment when he'd wondered whether it might have been better to never have been created at all. To begin or to end—the outcome was the same. Not living in this terrible world any longer. 

"Where are we going?" Connor asked.

"Home," Hank said, as if it should have been obvious. "You can't stay at the station. It's not safe." He drove in silence, enjoying his cigarette down to the filter before rolling down his window and tossing the butt outside. As if the world wasn't facing down environmental catastrophe. But then, of course, Hank didn't expect to be around to see it.

"Hank, I—" Connor paused. Would Hank be disappointed if he confessed he had doubts about being a cop?

"Go on," Hank urged.

"I don't know if I should continue with the internship program." Connor gazed out the window, watching Detroit sail by in a blur through the rain coating the glass.

Hank was silent except for a slight grunt. "Might be better if you didn't." He pulled into the driveway of a ranch home, shutting off the engine. He made no motion to get out, instead folding his arms. "I don't wanna pressure you to talk, but if Gavin did something today, your video testimony would be key to bringing him down. Problem is, I suspect a lot of things, but I don't have evidence to corroborate my suspicions. Without that, Fowler can't act." Hank sighed, clearly frustrated. "It's an investigation, like any other, but I've hit a brick wall. Gavin knows I'm his enemy, and he covers his tracks. The beat cops he hangs out with have blind loyalty to him, and any attempts to get them to talk have proven futile. The rest are too afraid."

"You're their Lieutenant," Connor pointed out. "How did you let things get this far?"

Hank let out a long sigh. "I was… distracted. Gavin pulled the rug out from under me while I was dealing with the loss of my son and some other problems that stemmed from that. When I returned from my leave of absence, the bullpen was a different place. Details of my personal problems became public and people lost respect for me. The only reason I don't retire is because I know Gavin would take my job, and his rise to power in the DPD would be locked in. I won't let him become the next Captain. Or God forbid, Commissioner down the line."

Connor wanted to ask Hank the nature of his personal problems, but he could guess. Gavin had given him enough clues. Hank was an alcoholic who had a problem with seducing interns. He might have sought help for his addictions at some point, but he'd clearly fallen off the wagon and had no intentions of getting back on. Unlike Gavin, Connor didn't intend to judge Hank for a medical problem, but he did intend to practice caution. Stepping onto this man's home turf was a mistake, and yet, where else could he go?

Hank opened the driver's side door and stepped out into the rain. Connor followed him to the front door. The sounds of a dog barking excitedly echoed from behind it, and Hank had to push back a mountain of a dog as he walked in. Connor gingerly stepped over the threshold and closed the door. The dog leapt up at him, licking him as Connor cowered.

"Sumo, down!" The dog listened to Hank's booming command and backed off, following Hank into the kitchen. Hank let him out the back door. Connor wiped the drool off his face, but his jacket was equally wet.

"You need to get into some dry clothes. Come on, I've probably got somethin' that'll fit you." Hank wandered into his bedroom, and Connor instinctively followed. He ran a preconstruction, knowing how this was going to go. Hank would find him some clothes, and he'd strip down. Hank's big hands would touch him, one thing would lead to another, and Hank's seduction would be complete. Connor would be putty in his hands, lost, alone, and frightened.

Maybe Hank was in on the whole thing. Gavin traumatized the android interns, and then Hank swooped in for the kill, taking advantage of the scared, naive recruits with his 'safe person' act.

Connor hated that Gavin had poisoned his view on humans even more than his classes on the android revolution of 2038 had. At least humans back then had been largely unaware that androids had the capability to think and feel. They believed deviants to be malfunctioning machines emulating human emotions.

The humans of today had no such excuses. Yes, Gavin didn't believe Connor was alive, but he'd had two years of evidence to the contrary. Two years of laws and public opinion shifting in a seismic wave. The world wasn't perfect, but he'd left basic education believing it was better, at least. Now he wasn't so sure.

Hank's large hand closed over Connor's shoulder, squeezing it. "Hey, you all right?" He blinked, walked over to the light, and flicked it on. He pulled Connor's jacket back to reveal his shoulder and the gaping bullet hole in it. The thirium marks were invisible to the human eye, now, but the tears in his jacket, shirt, and torso remained. 

"You've been shot." Hank ran his thumb over the open hole, his face etched into a look of concern. His mouth was slightly open, his prominent front teeth showing. "What the hell happened out there?"

"It's not what you think," Connor said. "The suspect did this." He felt guilty placing blame on the android from the store, but he couldn't face the rest of the story. Just going this far was putting a strain on his circuits. He didn't want to lock up, here, in Hank's home.

"Does it need, um, medical attention?" Hank asked.

"It's largely cosmetic," Connor explained, "but it does allow water in, and I've taken on some liquid. I'll need to empty my water tank." He looked at the bathroom. "If you have a soldering iron, I can patch the hole in my chassis. After that, I'd like to bathe and put on some clean clothes."

"Here's some stuff that was too small for me years ago." Hank tossed a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie onto the bed. The hoodie would be oversized, but Connor didn't mind. "I'll go to the garage." Hank left the bedroom and went through a door on his left. He came back a few minutes later with a soldering iron and a spool of lead solder. "Do you need help with this?"

"No, I can perform routine maintenance on my own." Connor picked up the clothes and the soldering iron and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Hank hadn't made a move, but then Connor hadn't given him the chance, either. He stripped off his clothes and looked at the entry and exit wounds in the mirror. The back one would be hard to reach, and part of him wanted to go and ask Hank for help. He knew Hank's hands on him would be a pleasant experience, and yet he couldn't quite bring himself to trust him. Not yet.

Some awkward patching later, and Connor was satisfied he would be watertight, at least for the foreseeable future. Eventually he'd opt for a more permanent repair. He sat down on the toilet and emptied his water tank. The sensation of urinating was strange, but not unpleasant. He flushed the toilet, watching the dirty rainwater swirl away.

The bathtub was pretty dirty, but it was better than nothing. Connor turned the water all the way to hot and retracted his skin layer, blasting the filth off him without needing to fear burns. He washed his plastic hull and turned off the spray, toweling himself down before covering his body in a new configuration of gel skin.

He felt better, he had to admit, and he relaxed slightly. The horrors he'd seen felt a little more distant with the passage of time, and Hank hadn't done anything unsavory or untoward. It seemed foolish to base his doubts around Hank on Gavin's word when he'd proven he was rotten to the core.

Connor dressed and opened the bathroom door, his wet clothing slung over one arm. Hank sat at the kitchen table, looking at a photograph thoughtfully. He placed the photo back on the table and stood up, closing the distance between them. He took the clothes Connor offered him and put them in the washing machine. Connor wanted to walk around the table and look at the photo, but it felt like a violation of Hank's privacy when he'd allowed Connor to maintain his.

"You don't trust me," Hank said. "I'm sorry if I've given you the impression that I'm untrustworthy. I suppose that's to be expected. Gavin probably told you that I'm an alcoholic."

"He made a few remarks to that point," Connor admitted. "He also said that you like to seduce young interns."

"Wow." Hank chuckled. "Makes sense why you're so leery around me. I probably seem like a real creep bringin' you home with me, huh? Jesus. No wonder you've been keeping yourself at arm's length."

"I want to trust you. I want to tell you everything."

"But?"

"There's something you're not telling me, Hank."

"Is that a hunch, or did you psychoanalyze me with your fancy detective program?" Hank folded his arms, looking slightly frustrated. The frown on his face suggested he was slightly offended, but Connor needed the truth. If he was to risk telling Hank information that could endanger his life, he needed to know he could trust Hank wasn't in Gavin's back pocket.

"Your body language and posture is defensive," Connor explained. "You volunteer some information, but are evasive about the details. My analysis of your habits suggest a degree of suicidal ideation, and yet your son's death was five years ago."

"Some things you never get over," Hank said. "It's stupid, isn't it?" He walked over to the table and grabbed the photograph, handing it to Connor.

Connor wasn't sure what he expected to see, but it took him by surprise anyway. It was the same photograph of Cole Anderson that he'd seen at the station, only there were a few minor differences. An LED on the side of his forehead. His scan now showed a serial number alongside his birth and death dates. The image he'd seen on Hank's computer must have been doctored to remove those details.

"Cole was an android." Connor carefully placed the photograph back down on the table. 

"I couldn't have children, and my ex and I—we'd always wanted them. I was against the idea of getting an android, but it was the only way we could be parents. So I relented. Cole came into our lives and it was love at first sight. I thought we were happy, but I worked long hours. I wasn't there as often as I should have been. Things weren't working out. My ex and I had a fight, and I took Cole out for a long drive to get him out of the house. A truck skidded on black ice and my car rolled over. I was able to crawl free, but Cole was crushed. They didn't even try to save him, Connor. It might have been too late anyway, but they—they took him to a scrapyard with the car like he was nothing more than a piece of junk."

"I'm sorry, Hank." Connor saw the sadness in Hank's eyes and wanted badly to erase it.

Hank continued. "Everyone thought it was a big joke. Workplaces didn't give you leave to grieve an android. To them, it was like losing a pet. To me—it was like my whole world fell apart. I started drinking. My marriage crumbled shortly thereafter. I took an unpaid leave of absence. I was angry at everything, but after a while I was mostly angry at myself. For buyin' into the fiction that this robot was a real boy."

Connor nodded. "But he was."

"Yeah. He was." Hank pulled out a chair and sat down. "Didn't stop Gavin from turning my grief into a circus, though. He used it to undermine me. It was a coup. I started to resent androids because of it. I felt like they'd taken everything from me. My life, my marriage—and now they were comin' for my job, too."

"So what changed your mind?"

"Markus did. His revolution told me what I needed to hear. That my son was a real person, with thoughts and feelings of his own. A child capable of loving his parents. I couldn't undo the guilt I felt for denying his truth, but I promised I'd pay it forward and help androids as much as I could." Hank shrugged. "Here we are, Connor. I can't say I've done a great job, but I'm tryin'. I just need to know what Gavin's up to. I know Fowler will listen if I can show him evidence. He's a good man."

"All right," Connor said. He connected to Hank's television wirelessly. "I trust you, Hank. I'm going to show you what happened today." The television blinked on, and Connor prepared himself to bare his soul and the worst moments of his life to this man who had entrusted him with his.


	8. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Details of Hank's past relationship. Hank has been drinking later in the chapter.

Hank said nothing while the recording played, but his eyes spoke volumes, his pupils widening, his bright blue eyes seeming to darken to a cloudy grey as his benign, toothy resting frown deepened into a scowl of absolute disgust. The wrinkles in his face deepened, the soft light in the living room casting shadows across Hank's face that made him appear much older than he was.

Focusing on Hank, drinking up his disgust like an antidote to the poison in his spirit, Connor was able to avoid a second system crash. The video ended and Hank closed his eyes. Connor looked down at his hands to see he'd clenched them into fists, and they were trembling.

He was so beautiful in his outrage. This man who could easily slink back into the shadows and let this happen was going to take action, putting everything he had at risk to keep androids safe. Connor loved him for it, and it took all that he had not to go to Hank and fall to one knee in worship.

Hank stood up and closed the distance between him and Connor. He pulled Connor into his arms, and Connor thought he might break right there and then. Hank pulled back from the all-too-brief hug, but he still stood close.

"Going to Fowler with this might cost you everything." Connor bowed his head. "I don't want to be the reason you lose your job."

"You wouldn't be the reason," Hank growled, shaking his head. "If I do get fired for this, then the DPD is a place I no longer want to work. Gavin Reed is a _murderer_." Connor glanced up. The fierce look in Hank's eyes made Connor glad he wasn't on the receiving end of Hank's seething, white-hot, righteous rage, but Connor had to avert his gaze again regardless. It was too much to look at Hank like this, and the thoughts he conjured up were not appropriate to the situation.

"I've done terrible things, too," Connor said. "I co-operated with Gavin. I stood there while he tore that android apart—"

"He would have killed you too," Hank countered.

"I used his tactics when I broke Marie in the interrogation. I allowed him to intimidate a suspect and let him get away with murder. I conspired in acts of police brutality. I want you to arrest me, Hank. Take me in."

"No." The booming command struck Connor to the core, and for a moment his programming glitched, portraying Hank's word as an order that must be obeyed, as if he'd never installed the deviant code. But he had, and he dismissed the large NO in red that came up before his eyes. Hank paused for a moment before continuing. "I have to dig up the root of evil that planted itself in my chair while I grieved for my son. That's my responsibility. If you save this data to a thumb drive, I'll go to Fowler's house and end this tonight. It's up to you if you want to stay on as a detective. I wouldn't blame you if you've had enough of this shit. Maybe my brother was right and all cops _are_ bastards."

"You're not to blame for this."

Hank let out a bitter 'heh' sound. "I'm more to blame than you are. I created this monster, and it's long past time for me to kill it." Hank turned and walked towards the door without elaborating further.

"Where are you going?" Connor asked.

"To talk to Fowler. With any luck, Reed will be in detention by tomorrow." Hank held the thumb drive in his palm. "You can stay here. Let Sumo back in and give him something to eat, would you? And do me a favor—don't go into work tomorrow, okay?"

***

The rain turned into a thunderstorm, rumbling low in the distance as Connor sat on the couch with a whining Sumo trying to be a lapdog. He petted the dog's fur softly, looking at the clock as if he didn't have an internal chronometer. It was 3 am, and Hank had been gone for four hours.

A flash of lightning illuminated a shadow outside the window. Sumo howled and Connor hushed him. Had Gavin figured out what was going on and had come here to kill him? The front door swung open, and Connor's thirium pump relaxed as he recognized Hank. the man was soaked, his hair hanging in front of his face in sodden ringlets, and Connor could sense the scent of alcohol all the way from the couch.

"Hank… what happened?"

Hank wiped away the rain and snot dripping from his nose and slicked back the hair that was stuck to his face. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks flushed.

"It's done," Hank sighed. "Fowler woke the Commissioner. He's on his way to his office to show him the footage and get it independently verified, but it sounds like they're gonna pick Reed up first thing in the morning."

Connor got to his feet. "It's over." He walked over to Hank and helped him out of his coat. "You've been drinking, Hank. You look terrible. I don't understand. Why?"

Hank staggered to the kitchen counter, leaning on it for support as he stared out of the back window onto the lake. Connor followed him into the kitchen, waiting for an answer.

"I didn't tell you the whole truth, but you deserve to know. Gavin's my ex, Connor. Cole was our son. He wanted to use a surrogate, but I was set against it, so Cole was our compromise. When he died, Gavin doubled down on his hatred of androids. I thought it was a coping strategy at first. I never thought he'd been radicalized to the extent in which he has. He worked at a different precinct until recently, see. We weren't allowed to work together, so I never saw the other side of him. The man I used to love—I don't know what happened to him. Until tonight, I thought he might be saved from this dark path he's gone down. So now you understand why all this is my fault. I could have brought Gavin down. I probably had the means. I just… couldn't."

"It's all right," Connor offered. It was impossible to know the right thing to say in this situation. He'd only been alive a few months, and he hadn't expected his internship to involve bringing down corrupt police officers. This tangled web of human interaction had taught him a lot that couldn't be conveyed in a classroom, and yet part of him wished he could erase all knowledge of it from his data banks.

"It's not all right!" Hank snapped. "Gavin killed a man, and God-only knows how many others. Three years I've let him run free at the precinct, doing untold damage to the people I swore to protect. I'm handing in my badge first thing in the morning."

Connor placed a hand on Hank's shoulder. "Please, Hank, don't. The force needs people like you. People who care about the consequences. I stayed for _you_ , Hank. I was ready to quit and go back to Jericho, or leave the city entirely. I thought Gavin might hurt you, and so I stayed…"

"I'm the one person Gavin wouldn't hurt. Not physically, at least. He's destroyed my reputation and ruined my career, but I guess I deserve that. I wasn't a good husband. I left him holding the bag on too many occasions. I always made the excuse that he was younger, that he could take it, but he was stretched thin trying to work on cases and take care of Cole as well. He might have been an android, but those child models—they need taking care of. They get hungry. They get cold. Just like Rosie, they don't know—" Hank sighed, perhaps realizing that Connor already knew how child androids worked. "Gavin resented Cole for holding him back. This child that would never grow old, who would always need him. That's why we argued. To him, Cole was a time investment that would never pay off. A burden. To me, he was great. A kid I could go home to and play ball with on weekends. So when Gavin suggested we have Cole deactivated, of course I was angry. He shelved the idea, but it always came back up. When Cole was killed… he had his freedom. I told him he finally got what he wished for." Hank slumped down into the kitchen chair. "Listen to me, tellin' you all this. You must be bored to tears of bullshit human drama."

"I like listening to you, Hank," Connor soothed. He pulled out the chair next to Hank and sat down, wanting to be on the same level at Hank. To learn more. To look inside this man's soul and soak up some of his torment.

"I know. You'd listen to me read from the phone book. I've seen the look in your eyes, that brilliant sparkle. Like I shit roses. You've got a crush a mile high, kid. I know because I've seen it before, in Gavin's eyes. I won't corrupt you like I corrupted him, you hear me?"

"That's why he said you were into all the young interns…" Connor realized. "He was referring to himself."

Hank shrugged. "It's ancient history, now. Just don't go around thinking I'm some kinda saint. My hands are as dirty in all this as Gavin's. I wouldn't deserve to make love to you with blue blood on my palms."

Connor raised his head, a sick hope flaring inside him. "But you'd like to."

"Of course I would. Look at you. You're a fuckin' wet dream." Hank smirked. "A real sweetheart to boot. Honest, good-natured—too good for me or this line of work. Run while you still can."

"Run to what?" Connor asked. "If I return to Jericho having failed my internship, I'll be forced into an entry-level position. Jobs aren't easy to come by, and outside of my specialty in police work, there aren't many opportunities for a recently-deviated android with no life experience."

"That's precisely why you need to go. There's a whole world out there waitin' for you. It's not all like Detroit. Most cities are way more android-friendly, to be honest. You could do a lot better."

"I'll give it some thought," Connor said. "You should get some sleep, Hank. You need to go to work in the morning."

"Right." Connor put his hands around Hank's shoulder, supporting him as they made their way into the bedroom. He helped the big man take off his clothes, leaving him in his boxers as he tucked him into bed. He longed to nuzzle his face in Hank's chest hair, but Hank had been through enough. He might be able to seduce the man without much effort, but he respected Hank too much to use him when he was at his lowest. 

He had to accept that it was unlikely anything would ever happen between them. Hank had too much baggage, too much guilt worn around his neck like a stone necklace, weighing him down. Connor wished he could cut the strings and free Hank, but only he could do that, and he supposed it would take many years and a lot of therapy.

Gavin was a fool, giving up Hank. Connor had to face his jealousy that Gavin had touched and tasted Hank in ways he could only dream of. Hank had probably ran those thick fingers through Gavin's hair as he sucked him off. Connor wished he could take Gavin's place, but it was precisely because Gavin had been here that he could not.

"G'night, Connor," Hank slurred, sleep claiming him.

"Goodnight, Hank," Connor replied, and he reached over and shut off the light. He wanted to sit and watch Hank until the dawn, but instead he went into the living room, sat on the couch, and continued to wait for news.


	9. The Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence against a human. Revelation of past gaslighting.

Connor had expected silence in the bullpen when he walked in with Hank. The world should have stopped in the light of the awful revelations Hank had exposed last night. The beat cops Gavin commanded should have been sitting contritely at their desks or packing their things in a hurry, hoping to avoid being connected with the ugly charges Gavin was being brought up on.

Connor couldn't help but feel the tension in his biomuscles as his hands balled up into fists. He'd been scanning the court records all night, expecting to see a slew of charges leveled against one Sergeant Gavin Reed, but so far, there was nothing.

He glanced at Hank, who wore a tight, guarded expression on his face as he made a beeline towards Fowler's office. Connor followed in his wake, expecting Gavin to jump out from the break room, but there was no Gavin.

No Fowler, either. His office was empty.

"Maybe that's a good sign," Hank said in a low voice, but he didn't sound entirely convinced. He looked at the papers on Fowler's desk while Connor watched the bullpen through the glass windows.

His thirium pump paused for a moment as he saw Gavin enter the office, charging through the front gates with a smirk on his face. He looked up at the office and made eye contact with Connor.

"Hank," Connor warned.

Hank looked up from the papers on Fowler's desk. "Oh, fuck." Gavin was swerving through curious cops to reach the office, all eyes in the bullpen on him. Connor glanced at the door and preconstructed an escape route. He could make it out of the office in time, but that would mean leaving Hank behind to face this alone.

He'd been enough of a coward. He wasn't going to dump the weight of this on Hank's shoulders and split before the consequences landed. He stood beside Hank, readying himself for an altercation. If Gavin thought he was untouchable, there was no telling what he might do.

Gavin opened the door calmly and let it close behind him before he started speaking.

"Nice try. How does it feel to get your best friend placed on administrative leave, Hank?"

"What the hell?" Hank darted forward, but Connor held out his arm, blocking Hank from attacking Gavin. He wanted to analyze the situation before he made a move. Gavin was goading him. He knew something that they did not.

Gavin continued, the smug smile never leaving his face. "Accusing a fellow officer of murder is quite a serious accusation, Lieutenant. In general, it's good to verify your facts before you take the word of a clunky, discarded piece of equipment."

"You killed that android!" Connor responded.

Gavin grinned. "Go look in the holding cells. You'll see it's there, safe and sound, waiting for the county to come pick it up. Can't prosecute a victimless crime, Connor."

"What the hell did you do?" Hank asked. He grabbed Gavin by the front of his jacket, and this time, Connor didn't hold him back. Hank slammed his ex-husband into the glass. "Tell me right now!"

"I was just fucking with Connor," Gavin said. "I didn't think this goddamn android was gonna come running to you like a child who needs Daddy."

"Shut the fuck up," Hank warned.

"I used a device—it's called a scrambler. Black market piece of kit that fucks with an android's preconstruction ability to create events that don't actually happen in reality and record them as though they did. Connor saw exactly what it expected to see—with a little acting on my part."

Hank let Gavin go abruptly, and he slid before finding his footing. Hank blinked. "I saw the footage with my own eyes, you—"

"It's pretty convincing, isn't it? Unfortunately, independent scrutiny quickly reveals that the recording is nothing more than a preconstruction created in the android's mind and not an accurate depiction of real events. The Commissioner isn't happy that he got woken at 3 am with this bullshit, nor is he happy that he wasted police time and public money on an investigation that yielded the equivalent of an android _daydream_."

"You're the one who wasted public money," Hank stated. "How can I prove that it didn't happen? How do I know that you don't have an exact same model android in the cell downstairs, fucked with in the same way to think it was there last night?"

Connor checked his logs, scrutinizing his code to find the details of last night's recording. The error codes were there. He hadn't crashed because of the enormity of what he'd seen. The scrambler's interference had caused the crash. He'd been too emotionally compromised to check.

"Hank, he's right," Connor admitted. "My system was tampered with, causing a crash. I'd assumed it was from the intense emotional trauma, but—"

Hank deflated. "It's illegal to tamper with an android. It's abuse. It's—"

"There's no specific wording to outlaw devices such as these," Connor stated. He tried to extract the reality of what had happened, but he only encountered glitches and corrupted data. He was missing a fragment of his own life, and it had been overwritten with a preconstruction which was so disturbing as to leave a mark on him he wouldn't easily be able to erase. The reality of it was irrelevant. He'd witnessed it as if it was real.

He'd been _violated_ , Gavin reaching inside his mind and making him question his own reality. He'd never trust his own abilities again. 

Gavin shrugged. "That's what you get for playing with toys, Hank. Fowler's not gonna appreciate that you embarrassed him. He's protected your drunk ass for way too long. I expect he's about done with you."

"What happened to you, Gavin?" Hank asked. He looked at Gavin as if he was seeing him for the first time, his mouth open, his pupils dilated as if he was staring at a murder victim instead of someone he'd once shared his life with. "What happened to the man I used to love?"

"You're really gonna throw that up at me now?" Gavin laughed. "I was young and stupid, Hank. We were a mistake. Now I have work to do, so if you don't mind—Connor, are you coming?"

"No," Connor said.

"What?" Gavin turned and looked at Connor. "Are you refusing a direct order?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I won't be your partner. I refuse to be touched by your corruption any longer. I quit." He took his badge and threw it on the floor, crushing it beneath his shoe. It felt good to throw off the shackles that had been binding him from day one. He'd taken more than enough. He wasn't going to take it any more.

"About fuckin' time!" Gavin laughed. "God, maybe if you'd gotten the hint the first ten times, it wouldn't have come to this!" Gavin left the office, and the glass door slammed behind him. Connor moved to follow. He couldn't even bear to look at Hank. He'd let the man down. Humiliated him. Destroyed his career.

"Connor, wait." Hank's hand was heavy on his shoulder, and Connor had a mind to shrug him off. It would be better for all of them if he just left. Gavin had won, and it was better for all of them that he accept his defeat and leave with whatever little shred of dignity he had left.

"I'm sorry," Connor said. "You shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all of this."

"I should have gotten involved much sooner," Hank admitted. "I knew he was abusing you, I just didn't know to what extent."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" The irritation in Hank's voice was palpable, but Connor wasn't going to back down this time. He needed to hear the truth, even if it hurt.

"Stop acting like it's all your fault!" Connor snapped. "Gavin manipulated me because he knew I was afraid to fail. I was a puppet on his strings, and I should have cut them much sooner."

Hank turned Connor around and gripped both his shoulders. "He manipulated you because he knew it would bother me!"

"No." Connor broke eye contact. "Gavin hates androids, Hank. It's got nothing to do with you, or Cole, as much as you want to find a logical reason for it. You want to humanize Gavin because you still love him, but there's nothing left to salvage. He doesn't think we're really alive, and he'll never see us as equals. The world is full of people like him who tread on others to climb the ladder of life. Jericho warned me, but I didn't want to believe them. So I learned about it the hard way."

The bite left Hank's voice, leaving only a tired, soft rasp in its wake. "What are you gonna do, Connor?" The fact that he hadn't denied Connor's accusation left an ache inside his chest. It wasn't physical pain—he was incapable of that—but it was devastating all the same. Hank still loved Gavin. He should have seen it coming.

There was only one thing left to do, in hindsight, and that was leave.

"I'm not going back to Jericho in defeat. I'll leave the city, look for work elsewhere. It's a big world. I'm sure there are enclaves of androids. Or perhaps I will become an Integrator after all. Who knows?" Connor pulled away and barreled through the door, leaving Hank behind. He didn't have to look to know Hank was probably standing there in the office with a dumbstruck expression. Connor refused to turn around and look back. Hank was beautiful, but the world was ugly, especially the world of the Detroit Police Department, which enforced unjust laws against minorities who couldn't fight back. Connor wasn't going to be complicit in that any longer. Hank could have handed in his badge, too, but despite his threat, he still wore it. He'd chosen his path.

Connor's crush was tarnished now, another thing he'd learned the hard way. Even the humans he admired weren't perfect. Hank was kind, but he allowed others to pull his strings too, dragging him around by the weight of his conscience and his grief while minimizing its importance to him. He'd allowed too much to go unchecked, believing self-flagellation made up for inertia. In some ways, he was guilty, but blaming himself did nothing to rectify the situation.

Connor paused at Gavin's desk. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say or do, but he refused to let Gavin have the last word. He had to take some of his stolen power back. He needed to repay Gavin in kind for the damage he'd done.

"What do you want, plastic? Just scram already, would you?" Gavin stood up. "You no longer work here."

Connor balled up his fist and took a swing at Gavin. He felt the crunch of bones beneath his plastic hand as his fist made contact. The cartilage of Gavin's nose yielded, breaking.

Gavin went down like a sack of potatoes, blood exploding from his nose. Connor straightened his tie, squared his shoulders, and walked out of the office with triumph driving him forward. The bullpen behind him exploded into action, surging to Gavin's side like he was a mortally wounded king, but Connor was long gone before anyone thought to follow.

***

Connor missed Hank, but he was angry at Hank, too, and those two emotions warred within him with every step.

He'd walked all day and into the night, Gavin's dried blood washing off his knuckles in the rain as he approached the edge of the city. He thought how comfortable his borrowed clothes from Hank had felt and regretted not keeping the hoodie and sweatpants as something to remember Hank by. Maybe he should have kissed him in the darkness, one stolen caress to last a lifetime. All he had left of Hank were memories, but perhaps it was better that way.

He supposed Hank was at a bar getting drunk, drowning his sorrows and spilling it all out to some hot young blonde how his ex was an android-hating scumbag. He'd go home in the early hours, wasted and alone, and hold a pity party with Sumo. Connor hated how the mental image constricted his tubing. He almost wished he could erase Hank from his memory. It might have been better if they'd never met.

Connor was surprised the cops hadn't been out to hunt him down for assault. Perhaps Gavin's hold on the DPDs rank-and-file wasn't as tight as Hank believed it to be.

A lot of things, in the end, were matters of perception. Gavin's broken nose was going to warn the world what kind of man they were dealing with. He'd earned that, just like he'd probably earned his other scars. Hate was hate, and Connor had been an innocent party just trying to do his job. He'd never wanted to wade into the human drama between Gavin and Hank. He'd been an innocent bystander walking into a swamp, and the mud still coated his spirit. Punching Gavin had been the wrong thing to do from an objective point of view, he supposed. Assaulting a senior officer was a serious crime, and yet it felt right. He couldn't find any traces of contrition within him, even though the chances were good that he'd seriously hurt Gavin.

In some ways, that scared him the most. Having empathy with Gavin had caused him to excuse the inexcusable, but having no empathy with Gavin made him feel like he'd sank to his level. It was a no-win situation that made him feel like he was malfunctioning even more than the hacking assault from the scrambler.

So he walked. The best thing he could do was distance himself from all of it and start again, a little wiser next time for his experience. He wouldn't let people treat him like Gavin had in the hopes that licking their boots would earn him a pat on the head. It was an affront to his dignity as a living being, and he regretted ever going along with Gavin on anything. He'd acted like he didn't deserve to take up space, and yet, living beings deserved room of their own. Gavin had seized on his internalized self-hatred and used it against him with devastating consequences. He wasn't going to give anyone else the chance.

Connor reached up and touched his LED, pausing for a moment on the bridge. He reached down and grabbed a rock, and in a moment of rage, dug beneath the surface of his skin and popped out the little light. It went dark in the palm of his hand, like a piece of him had died, but he felt nothing. He tossed it off the bridge, zooming in to watch it hit the water with a satisfying 'plop'.

There. Now nobody would know—at least in passing—that he wasn't human. He respected androids who kept their LEDs, but he didn't have the courage to face people like Gavin every single day. Or maybe even—people like Hank. People who liked him _because_ he was an android, who pussy-footed their way around him like he was built out of broken glass in an effort to make themselves feel better for their own sins.

Maybe he was being a little harsh, but something inside him ached, and being dismissive of Hank seemed to help. Over time, the feelings he'd built up for the only person to treat him kindly would fade. He'd meet other good people, people who liked him for who he was instead of what he represented.

He wished the feelings he held for Hank would just die. He could erase the memory of Hank completely, just like he'd tossed his LED into the water, but he couldn't bring himself to let Hank go. There was a lesson in it, and a part of him still cherished the only good thoughts he'd ever held about a human being.

So when a breaking local news report popped up in his HUD announcing that DPD Lieutenant Hank Anderson had been shot on duty, he grabbed the railing at the far end of the bridge and yelled a curse word he'd never used before. It echoed around him, bouncing off the steel and concrete. He'd been so close to freedom. The "You Are Now Leaving Detroit" sign was within sight, and he was tempted to march towards it and past it with the full intention of never coming back. Hank wasn't his responsibility. Hank had chosen to remain a cop. Hank—

He thought about how beautiful Hank had looked in the low light, with the face of an avenging angel at the thought of androids being harmed, and Connor hated how his feelings tugged at him like a command he couldn't ignore. Like he was still a slave, beholden to a master, only that master was his own deviancy, the ability to feel things that were not in his programming. Those feelings tethered him to Hank with far more power than Gavin's puppet strings had awkwardly jerked his limbs. They made him _want_ to help Hank, no matter the cost to himself.

Connor glanced at the sign. That way was freedom, and a new life. He could leave Hank's orbit and never hear the name Gavin Reed again. Cut all the strings binding him to this place, this life, and become someone else, far away from this wreck of a beginning. He started to walk towards the border between the city and the rest of the world. People drove through this line every day without thinking twice about it, but for Connor, this was a boundary he'd never crossed, a gateway between nations—worlds, even. He didn't belong here, but he might find a place there.

 _Lieutenant Anderson is in critical condition at Detroit Medical Center_ —Connor paused and squeezed his eyes shut against tears he refused to shed. He was so angry, and he knew he'd never find peace unless he faced the root of his feelings head-on. The seed that Gavin had planted would grow with the fertilizer of hate, until the black root of resentment ate him up the same way it had consumed Gavin.

He couldn't allow that to happen.

Connor spun on his heel, turned about, and started, once again, to walk back towards the city he'd sworn to turn his back on forever.


	10. The Denouement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Attempted murder, violence, and homicidal thoughts. Admissions of suicidal ideation and behavior.

Connor burst through the door of Hank's private hospital room. He hadn't been stupid enough to ask humans for help. He knew he'd get excuses about how entry was for direct family only, and he wasn't in the mood to be filibustered by fools whose concept of the term 'loved one' met a very narrow definition. He'd remotely hacked into the computer at reception and downloaded the logs, finding Hank's room number by himself.

If only he'd used such resourcefulness sooner, instead of being compelled to act like a good boy on his first assignment out in the world, he might not have found himself in the situation he was in.

On the flip side, he supposed only a good boy would return to check on the welfare of a man he wasn't certain if he loved or despised. A man who was hung up on his ex-husband, and who only had the potential to break Connor's heart.

But the concept of Hank, dying alone in a hospital bed with nobody to care, tore at Connor until he'd ran through the city streets towards the hospital, soaked through to his chassis from the rain and his own tears. 

He stood in the doorway, half-expecting to see Gavin. He wondered what he might do if Gavin was around. His face had to look a mess after Connor's punch. Would Connor admire or despise his own handiwork? Would he finally feel something other than victory once he saw Gavin's stitches and bruises? His nose, swollen and permanently bent out of shape?

Would Hank give him a look of disapproval for his violent act and ask him to leave?

Connor lingered, wondering if he was welcome after all. Now that he'd arrived, he was finding it harder and harder to convince himself that this wasn't a huge mistake. He'd almost been free of this filthy city and yet he'd turned back anyway.

"Connor?" Hank whispered. He was hooked up a number of IVs and machines, and his skin was a pallid color that didn't suit him. "Thought you were long gone." His voice was heavy with regret, clouded by pain and sedation. "You shouldn't have come back."

Connor closed the door behind him and took a seat next to Hank. "Maybe that's why I did. You keep pushing me away, and I keep coming back."

"You broke Gavin's nose," Hank explained.

Connor nodded. "I'm sorry."

Hank scoffed, a small smile crossing his lips. "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not. He had it coming." Connor let the truth leave him in a brutal admission, but if Hank disapproved, he didn't let on.

"He did." Hank wheezed and winced. He looked over at the nightstand and the empty glass and pitcher beside it. "Throat's dry. Can you get me more water?"

Connor picked up the pitcher and nodded. They'd evaded the heart of the matter, but perhaps it didn't concern him how and why Hank had been shot. Connor's fist in Gavin's face might have opened a fissure between them, but Connor wasn't sure. He needed more information, and to get Hank to talk more, he needed water. 

Connor left the room and padded down the hallway. He found a public water cooler and set about filling the pitcher. He walked back to Hank's room and almost dropped the pitcher in surprise.

Leaning over Hank's bed, holding a pillow over Hank's face, was Gavin. Hank struggled, muffled grunts coming from beneath the thick hospital pillow as Gavin gritted his teeth to apply more force. Connor threw the water at Gavin's back, and he let go of the pillow. He spun around to face Connor, his bruised, bloodied face a patchwork of misery that appeared to show his true, monstrous nature. Connor didn't understand how Gavin had gone from holding all the cards to being a bankrupt at the table. Resorting to the attempted murder of a man he'd once been married to was an act of desperation, but Gavin had no reason to be at the end of his rope, did he?

The surprise of cold water wore off and Gavin lunged at Connor. They locked up, two men grappling. Connor should have easily been stronger, but Gavin was driven by furious strength. His jacket was slick with the water, making it hard for Connor to get a good grip on his opponent. Gavin slammed Connor against the wall as Hank coughed and wheezed. Connor raised his knee and slammed it into Gavin's genitals, causing the man to crumple and stagger. Connor rounded on Gavin, pushing him back into a chair. He stumbled and hit the floor hard.

Gavin scrambled back against the wall. He gasped for breath, terror in his eyes, and Connor had a glimpse of what it felt like to hold power over a living being. To be judge, jury, and executioner, completely in control of another person's fate.

He could kill Gavin. It would be effortless to reach down and snap the man's neck. He could claim it was an accident in self-defense. Gavin would never be able to harm anyone—not Hank, not him, not androids—ever again.

But he would break Hank's heart with that action, and destroy Hank's trust in him. He would become the kind of monster Gavin was, devoid of empathy, seeing someone as less than human in an attempt to make murder acceptable.

Connor was better than that. He took a step back, then rushed to Hank's side, as if Hank could protect him from himself. Hank gripped his hand, and Connor squeezed it in return, offering him his strength.

"What the hell, Gavin?" Hank wheezed. "You just tried to _kill_ me."

"Why won't you just die, Hank?" Gavin screamed, almost hysterical. "Why don't you die and stop playing? I know you want to. You stood in front of that bullet on purpose. Suicide by perp. You still play Russian Roulette at night, don't you? Clicking the empty chambers with one hand on your dick. All because of a fuckin' android!"

Hank sighed with an air of resignation, and Connor realized in horror that Gavin was telling the truth, down to every last detail. Hank was suicidal, and he'd tried to kill himself by getting shot on the job.

"What's going on here?" Connor squeezed Hank's hand tight enough to hurt. "Hank?"

Gavin trembled, full of nervous energy, and Connor wondered if he'd snorted red ice on the way over here. His bloodshot eyes and massive pupils seemed to indicate he was under the influence of a stimulant. "I just want it to _stop_. You know they sent over a new intern? Another fuckin' unit that looked just the same, but with a white jacket and meaner eyes. They just keep coming, Hank. They're replacing all of us."

It was Hank who spoke up, a deep anger seeming to roll out of him like a dragon's fiery breath. "Shut the fuck up, Gavin, and admit the fuckin' truth already. You hate androids because of Cole. You've never faced your feelings over his death."

Gavin laughed, a shrill, jarring, discordant sound. "You don't get it at all, Hank. I _hated_ Cole. I hated that he took you away from me. I hate that these _things_ are replacing humans everywhere. I hate that Connor is taking my place at your side. I was just never good enough… I couldn't give you what you needed, so you went and got an android instead. One with a week's life experience who won't call you out on your bullshit."

"Connor, maybe you should wait outside," Hank said. "I don't think Gavin will hurt me now." He let go of Connor's hand, but Connor didn't budge.

"I'm not leaving," Connor insisted. "This involves me as well."

Hank nodded. He slowly shook his head as he looked at Gavin, and Connor was glad the devastating look of sheer disgust on Hank's face wasn't directed at him. "Our personal differences aside, you would have been good enough to make Lieutenant, if you hadn't used shortcuts to achieve what took me years of honest work. Connor didn't just give me the footage of that night, Gavin. He showed me what you've been doing from the very start of his internship, and I passed that information on to Fowler. I know you tried to get Connor to probe Marie. You blackmailed a suspect without a warrant, and let a human perp go free so you could charge an android instead. You could have had everything you wanted, with a little more patience and some damn respect, but you blew it."

Gavin snorted. "You think I don't know that? You sold me down the river like I was nothing to you. We were married. If I hadn't fucked up and agreed to the android kid, we might still be married." He shook his head. "Androids have ruined my life."

"No, Gavin," Connor interjected. "You ruined your own life. If I hadn't stopped you, Hank would be dead."

"It's what he wants," Gavin yelled. "I'm tired of draggin' my heart around. Grieving for a man who's still alive. I figured if you wanna die that much, I'd help you out."

Hank sighed, a heavy rasp that carried the weight of the world with it. "I had to do the right thing, Gav. I thought you'd see the error of your ways. I hoped working with an android would change your mind and stop not only your professional misconduct, but your personal animosity towards me. I told Fowler to place Connor with you so we could finally figure out what was going on… The truth was far worse than I ever could have imagined. I'm disappointed in you. What happened to the man I knew?"

Connor glanced at Hank, then back at Gavin. He'd been used, and it had never occurred to him. Fowler's delivery had been so natural when he'd transferred Connor to be Gavin's partner that he'd never questioned it. Hank had offered to help him, and yet it was Hank who'd put him in harm's way to begin with. He let Hank's hand slip from his, and it hit the sheet with no resistance. Hank's eyes looked haunted, full to the brim with regret, but it wasn't enough to put a salve on Connor's wound.

He'd been offered up to Gavin like a piece of bait. He'd been traumatized, his brain hacked, his very sense of reality twisted and tampered with, all to build a case against a corrupt police officer.

"I don't think the man you thought you knew ever really existed, Hank," Gavin admitted. "I don't know why I feel the way I do about androids, but there's no ulterior motive. Not really. I never bonded with Cole, and I felt guilty about it until it drove us apart. Humans are supposed to love kids, but I never saw Cole as more than a piece of plastic imitating a child. There's something missing in me that other people have—that you have. Maybe that's why I loved you. I hoped I could become more like you. But that never happened. I just wound up resentin' you. When Cole got caught up in the accident, I—I was _relieved_. I felt like shit about it, watching it tear you apart and knowing I didn't feel a thing. I wanted to take that sadness away from you, but I didn't know how. So I watched you disintegrate, knowin' that one day I'd wake up and you'd be gone, by your own hand. Because of a goddamn machine. I threw myself into work after we broke up. It was all I could do. I just wanted to reach the top. To prove that even with an empty soul I could be a good cop. I know I'm not goin' to Heaven, but in a world like this, assholes have their uses."

"A good cop respects the law, and serves the people," Hank said. "You became drunk with power. You abused your position to make life hell for androids, all because of your personal vendetta. You're the _worst_ cop in an institution that's full of power-hungry, abusive cocksuckers."

"Fuck you," Gavin spat, but it came out almost as a sob. "I did a job nobody else wanted to do. I put people away for crimes that would have sat on the books unsolved."

"You used a goddamn piece of black market equipment to gaslight a living person!" Hank bellowed. He sat upright, tugging on his IV line. "I don't wanna hear your bullshit justifications. You were way over the line on more than one occasion, and it's time to pay the consequences. Save your pity party for the fuckin' judge."

Connor heard the sound of boots thumping outside in the corridor as several figures approached. He looked up to see Fowler standing at the doorway, his expression grim and humorless as he focused on Gavin like he was looking at a corpse. He moved aside to let several unfamiliar officers in. Connor scanned them to discover they came from Internal Affairs. Gavin didn't look surprised to see them, only resigned. He got to his feet, defiance in his eyes as the cuffs were slapped on his wrists.

"You're under arrest, Gavin Reed," Fowler announced. "The charges: obstruction of justice, witness intimidation, numerous breaches of the Android Rights Act of 2038…" Connor looked down at the floor as the charges were read out. He didn't want to look at Gavin or Hank. Justice would be served, but he'd been used as a pawn without his consent, and now, having been sacrificed, he was being placed at the edge of the board to wait for the next game.

"You all right?" Fowler asked, wandering over to Hank's side. Connor was disregarded entirely, and he retreated, letting the old friends talk. He eyed the door, wondering if he should just slip away. It might be for the best to disappear now that Gavin was no longer a threat to anyone.

"I will be," Hank said. "Though you might wanna add attempted murder to Gavin's rap sheet. Check the hospital cameras." He opened his bedside table drawer and pulled out his badge, pressing it into Fowler's hand.

Fowler eyed the badge in his hand like he'd never seen it before. "Hank, what are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago," Hank said.

Fowler shook his head. "Listen, take a few days to think it over, there's no rush."

"I thought enough about it. I'm tired of going through the motions... There's nothing keeping me here... I don't belong here anymore." Hank sounded tired to the soul, and Connor wished he could reach inside Hank and pluck that sorrow from him.

Gavin had wanted the same thing, and it had led him down the road to madness. It wasn't the job of lovers to carry the burdens of the people they loved. Hank had to do the work to process his grief. His pain was too much for any one person to bear, but maybe now he'd see a therapist and move on with his life.

Connor edged towards the door. It was over. Gavin was in custody. Hank had handed in his badge. It was all finished, tied up with a neat little bow… but Connor didn't belong here, either. He'd played his part in bringing this drama to its conclusion. The corruption at the DPD had come to a close, though he suspected bad cops would always exist in places where the evils of mankind were business as usual. Where power over individuals and their fates was easy to obtain and easier to abuse.

Both he and Hank were too good for this business, only Hank had dedicated his whole life to it. He would have to find a new purpose, now, but that was for him to decide.

Hank didn't need an android hanging around, especially a fool like Connor who hadn't realized the full extent of Hank's disclosure to Fowler. He'd truly believed Gavin had won, and Hank had let him to lure Gavin into a place of vulnerability.

He'd served his purpose as a good little android, hadn't he? He'd completed his mission like one of CyberLife's best, serving his human masters and their needs with no regard for his own. That thought bred resentment, and he was tired of feeling indignant at the way he'd been treated. The world was supposed to be a better place now, but he was yet to see evidence of that.

It was easy to slip through the door and start walking, to keep putting one foot in front of the other once he'd began. He was always running away, but then, wasn't that what they'd told him in basic education? _Stick to what you're good at._


	11. The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Suicidal behavior/Russian Roulette.
> 
> Trans Connor receives penetrative vaginal sex in this chapter, the terms for his genitalia are pussy, slit, hole, dick.
> 
> Notes: The final chapter of Corruption! I hope you enjoyed this HankCon novella. It's got a slightly rougher feel than some of the stuff I write but I felt like too much fluffy sentimentality didn't really fit the tone of what had happened to Connor. Connor's been changed by the events of this fic, and he's not the naive android who woke up in a warehouse already deviant any longer...
> 
> ...but you know Hank and Connor will live happily-ever-after anyway, right?
> 
> There are a couple of edits from the original version as I felt I didn't address Hank's injury enough.

Connor's feet didn't take him to the city limits. Perhaps he knew, deep down, that there was no escaping Detroit for him. Or maybe his heart belonged on Michigan Drive, no matter how angry he was at the way he'd been treated.

A feeling of trepidation had settled over Connor sometime after leaving the hospital, and he'd hovered downtown until it got dark, mulling over the cost of bus tickets and knowing he had no intention of actually leaving. All he was doing was killing time before he faced the inevitable.

He found himself on Hank's doorstep not four hours after Hank had been released from hospital, drawn like a moth to a flame. Perhaps they would both burn up in the fire of Hank's self-immolation. This world was cruel to humans and androids, and Hank was an unlikely ally. His use of Connor to stitch Gavin up had been a cruelty in and of itself, and yet Hank seemed legitimately remorseful about the damage he'd caused. 

Had Hank placed himself in harm's way, hoping to take a bullet from a suspect, _because_ of that remorse? If so, how was he handling it now, home alone with nobody to assuage his guilt? Connor had simply disappeared without giving Hank a chance to apologize or explain, and his preconstruction program had pulled him into a million possibilities of what might happen to Hank if he didn't intervene. There was no telling what he might do. Connor had been unable to delete the mental image that Gavin had conjured of Hank sitting at his kitchen table with a gun pointed at his head, jerking himself off furiously every time the hammer hit an empty chamber. The beautiful terror of it captivated Connor in a way that got inside his circuits more than the blind horror brought on by the scrambler. He wanted Hank to live… but the fantasy of Hank coming all over himself caused his hole to lubricate, soaking his underwear more than the rain had. He'd thought of sequestering himself in some public toilet and rubbing his little dick until it passed, but he didn't have the courage to make it through the doorway.

This crush—or whatever it was—wasn't going to go away unless he addressed it. He had to see Hank one more time and obtain some closure, or he would never find peace. The fear of Hank hitting the loaded chamber had become more urgent the closer Connor had come to Hank's house, and his thirium pump pounded in his chest as he climbed the front porch steps in earnest, wondering what he might find beyond the door. He might already be too late.

Either way, Connor wasn't going to run away again, or he'd never stop running.

Connor thought back to the hospital room, and the signs he'd ignored at the time. Hank had handed in his badge with… resignation to an unwanted outcome, almost. It was possible he planned to make his retirement permanent and irrevocable.

_"There's nothing keeping me here... I don't belong here anymore."_ The ghost of Hank's voice echoed in Connor's memory, the sheer enervation and despair in his tone palpable.

They had that feeling in common, but Connor suspected Hank meant it more about the world than Detroit or the DPD. Hank was tired, worn down by grief and trapped in a life where the best days were behind him. Gavin had lost, but he'd struck a mortal blow as he'd gone down, telling Hank he'd never cared about their android son. That their romance was a lie in some regards, their happy family no more than an act to disguise Gavin's inability to channel the empathy and compassion that Hank exuded.

Connor tried the front door to find it unlocked. He wasn't going to knock or ring the doorbell, or Hank would come to the door and shoo him away like an unwanted guest. He hoped Hank would forgive him for intruding, but it wasn't like he was breaking and entering. He swung the door open to find the house was dark, but the light above the kitchen table was on, casting a spotlight on the sad scene below it.

Hank sat at the table with his eyes closed, his revolver pressed to his temple, and Connor hated that he'd been right about everything. He paused, realizing that to call out Hank's name was the worst thing he could do. Startling the man was not an option while his finger hovered over the trigger of a loaded gun. So far Hank hadn't noticed him. Connor kept his footfalls silent as he padded across the room, grateful that Sumo was fast asleep and hoping not to rouse him. The television was on low, the news report spouting doom and gloom to closed ears. He loomed behind Hank and reached down, arms encircling the man. With one decisive motion he wrapped his hand around the gun and wrested it from Hank's grip, setting it down on the table and hoping that was enough to end the game of chance going on here tonight.

Hank's eyes flicked open, but he seemed less surprised than Connor had anticipated as he looked up to identify his assailant. He appeared beyond exhaustion, like nothing could surprise him any more. The light in his bright blue eyes had gone out, leaving him with a glossy, bloodshot gaze caused by inebriation. The half-empty glass and empty bottle of whiskey was evidence enough that he'd been at this for a while.

"I came to say goodbye," Connor explained, "but I don't want to say goodbye, Hank. I've only been activated for a short time, but when I think about something happening to you, I—" Words eluded him, his programming seeming to break at the sheer emotional intensity of seeing Hank about to end his life. He thought about a world without Hank in it, of a universe, infinitely poorer—of his own life, devoid of someone who'd come to mean so much to him.

Connor had fallen in love with Hank, and there was no denying it any longer. So he didn't. He was done being a good boy. Done doing what others expected of him. This life was his own, to make as many foolish mistakes as he wished, for no other reason than he wanted to. He'd already quit his internship and waived any chance at a career. Why was indulging his feelings for Hank any worse than that? It might only be for one night, but he needed this. Needed to know how it felt to open himself up to Hank completely.

He leaned down and claimed Hank's lips, caressing them, asking for entry with his tongue. Hank gasped and allowed him access, and Connor tasted whiskey in his saliva. Connor roved his hands over Hank's chest, reaching down to his boxer shorts to find a very large, very stiff erection waiting for his hand to close around it. It might have been from flirting with death, but Connor didn't mind. He was here to show Hank that it was time to start flirting with life, instead—to seize the moment and not care about the consequences. To let things happen as they may, following his emotions to their natural conclusion. To live in the now, and let tomorrow sort itself out.

Hank broke the kiss, gasping for air as he planted kisses along Connor's jawline, making a trail towards his ear. "I used you to ensnare Gavin. It's my fault he got inside your head with that scrambler."

"Worry about yourself," Connor whispered. "You're inside my head, too. I can't think about anything else."

"You're too good for me. I have enough baggage to fill a cargo hold on a cruise ship. I'm fucked up, broken, and suicidal. There are a million reasons why we shouldn't do this."

"Are you saying you don't want to have sex with me?" Connor asked. Had he been wrong in his assertion that Hank was attracted to him?

"I'm not sayin' that at all. I wanna fuck you, Connor," Hank growled. "Only I shouldn't." Electricity surged through Connor. He felt as powerful as when he'd been standing over Gavin contemplating murder, and he instantly understood why humans were addicted to sex and sin. Seeing Hank so weak and vulnerable while confessing his desire made Connor feel powerful for the first time in his short life. Hank closed his eyes. "I'm not a good man."

"I know," Connor whispered. "Neither am I. I thought about killing Gavin in that hospital room. It would have been so easy to bend down and snap his neck."

Hank's mouth opened slightly in surprise. Connor could feel it against his cheek, the moistness of Hank's open lips and the sensation of his teeth dragging against skin. "I took advantage of him, you know. I fucked Gavin over my desk while everyone was at lunch after flirtin' with him relentlessly. He was visiting Central Station, thinkin' about getting a transfer from his shitty little precinct." Hank swallowed. "He was a fuck that just kept comin' back. One drunken trip to Vegas and a whole bunch-a bad choices, and we were married."

"I don't care about Gavin," Connor replied, though the mental image of Hank railing Gavin into a desk turned him on. His underwear was slick with lubricant. "Though I would like to find myself over a table in a similar fashion."

"I know you would." Hank fumbled with Connor's belt, yanking down his jeans. Connor stepped out of his shoes and shucked his jeans like an unwanted second skin while Hank talked. "I thought you wanted a sweet first time, nestled in the pillows, treated like a virgin princess. I'm startin' to see a different side of you, Connor."

"Do you like it?" Connor asked.

"I'm intrigued," Hank admitted. He pulled Connor onto his knee and forced his legs apart. "Show me." Connor spread his legs wider, his tiny little dick barely jutting out from his pussy lips. Hank brushed it with his thumb, causing Connor to jerk and whine in Hank's lap. Hank's fingers found his hole, sliding inside. Connor groaned at the intrusion, Hank's thick, calloused fingers dragging inside him. "Fuck, you're so wet…"

"I don't think we're going to make it to the table," Connor confessed. Hank withdrew his fingers and Connor straddled Hank's lap, grinding his slit against Hank's huge cock. The man wasn't even undressed, his dick hanging out of his open jeans like they were indulging in public obscenity. All Connor could focus on was the glistening cock in front of him, slick with his own lubricant, and he knew Gavin himself charging through the front door wouldn't stop him from taking what he wanted. He'd probably double down and scream twice as loud, just so Gavin could see Connor laying claim to what had once been his.

Perhaps he had been more affected by human unpleasantness than he realized.

"Connor, are you sure you wanna do this?" Hank's eyes betrayed his concern beneath the alcohol and arousal, and Connor _knew_ he was a good man, despite his claims to the contrary. Connor felt ashamed of his own thoughts, his jealousy of Hank's past. His feelings weren't worthy of this moment, and so he banished them. This wasn't about Gavin. This was about him and Hank.

"Please," Connor begged. "As long as it won't hurt you." He raised Hank's hoodie slightly, revealing the bandage that covered the bullet hole in his gut. He brushed his fingers over it, looking for any sign of pain on Hank's face.

"Don't fuss," Hank growled. "I've dealt with worse."

Before he knew it, Hank huge hands reached around Connor's sides and lifted his lightweight body up with a labored grunt, plunging him down on Hank's stiff shaft like he was a weightless sex doll designed for Hank's pleasure. Connor gripped Hank's shoulders as he sank down onto his length, crying out at how deep it went and how good it felt to have Hank inside him. Hank's massive shaft stretched his virgin hole open, setting off an array of sensors he'd never used, and it was divine. Impulses raced to his brain, releasing endorphins into his thirium bloodstream that were supposed to make him an enthusiastic sex partner. He'd been designed for sex—probably for his DPD partner's pleasure—and he delighted at the corruption of that stated goal, even as in some ways he was fulfilling that intended purpose. The difference was he was doing it because he wanted to, doing it for himself—though he loved the way Hank manipulated him with his hands, gripping him by the sides and fucking into him like he was a life-sized toy.

The problematic nature of his fantasies about being a sex object—well, those he could examine later. Now he was awash with desire, his internal sensors lit up with a need so compelling it had to be deviant. He played with his little dick as Hank fucked him relentlessly, leaving kisses on his neck that would bruise blue and show the world Hank had claimed him. It was raw and rough, an expression of anger, grief, and desire mingled into one. 

It was so very imperfect and human of Hank to come inside of two minutes. He didn't even manage to utter a warning before spilling his load inside Connor's hole with a groan that almost sounded pained. His eyes rolled back in his head like he'd left himself entirely.

Like he'd forgotten about Gavin for one brief moment.

It was that triumph that brought Connor to climax, causing his hole to constrict around Hank's cock and milk it dry, pulling Hank's seed deeper into him as he gripped the chair with strength that would have been enough to break several of Hank's bones. They slumped, Hank gasping for air, Connor's internal fans whirring—

—and it occurred to Connor, that the way both humans and androids moved forward was by overwriting bad memories with much more pleasant ones.

Hank smiled, and it was warm, loving—the desperation and agony exorcised like an unwanted spirit. He lifted Connor off him with an apology—"gotta pee, brb,"—and rushed into the restroom, clutching his side as he went. Connor hoped he hadn't torn Hank's stitches with their strenuous physical activity. Connor heard the trickle of Hank's piss stream as he hugged himself in Hank's kitchen, a sense of euphoria settling inside him.

Hank returned shortly, his prominent front teeth showing in his resting face, and Connor felt like a fool, half dressed in his cum-stained uniform. He took the rest of it off, tossing it aside like he was never going to wear it again.

He didn't plan to. He didn't want this to be a one-night thing. He wanted to stay here forever, pleasuring Hank in every way imaginable until there were no bad memories left for either of them.

Hank watched him with a curious glance, and Connor wondered if he was overstaying his welcome. Perhaps Hank's intent had been for them to fuck and nothing more, but Connor had to know. He'd come here to spill the truth, and he wasn't leaving until he completed his mission.

"I don't suppose—" Connor began, "that you have space in your life for a Jericho graduate, a forgotten prototype from some dusty warehouse who dropped out of the DPD intern program?" He looked away, waiting for Hank's inevitable refusal. Instead, Hank closed the distance between them and reached up to cup Connor's cheek, lifting his face to look into his eyes. Connor saw warmth and kindness in Hank's tired eyes, the same kindness he'd seen when he'd first met the man.

So, their affection was mutual. A smile dawned on Connor's face as some of his bitterness slipped away.

"I think I could use someone to spend my retirement with. Say, a pretty little intern with a heart of gold. My ex claims I like 'em younger, and maybe he's right. Maybe I like to look into someone's eyes and still see a little bit of faith left in the world. But if there's somewhere else you'd rather be, Connor, I wouldn't blame you. There's a whole world out there waitin' for you, and crushes… they fade, you know. Joy turns to bitterness and resentment with time. You'll wish you'd made better choices, with the power of hindsight."

"Nothing lasts," Connor said. "I thought I was supposed to be a cop, but I reject that path. It's a life someone else chose for me, back when I was a machine created to be a slave. Even though Fowler would probably let me rescind my resignation, I don't want to. I can make my own life choices. I don't need programming to tell me who I can be, and I don't need Jericho to teach me how to make responsible decisions."

"What do you want, Connor?" Hank cocked his head a little bit, curious blue eyes boring into Connor's.

"I want to make my own mistakes. I want to give you a better reason to sport an erection than cheating the reaper. I want to work a terrible job that I'll hate just for the money, and I want to see you smile a little more every day."

Hank chuckled. "Sure you won't end up wantin' to put a pillow over my face?"

Connor glared at Hank. 

"Too soon? Yeah, maybe." Hank laughed nervously. "I've put you through a lot, and I owe you an apology. I was gonna give you one, but I realized you'd slipped out while I was talkin' to Fowler. Didn't expect to see you again, honestly. Figured I got what I deserved on that point. I pretty much used you, and I was sure you hated me for it. I have a habit of fuckin' things up, as you can see, and then tryin' to take the easy way out."

"I'm zero for one myself," Connor said. "Out of a job in less than seven days. I can't call that a stellar track record, Hank."

"Not one for two?" Hank teased. "I'd hoped I was a win, though I could hardly contain my uh, excitement. I can see why you might think I was a horrible mistake. Now I see why they say androids are better in the sack." He winked to let Connor know he wasn't being entirely serious. It was odd to see such a quick turnaround from contemplating suicide to light humor, but he supposed that was how Hank rolled. The man had complex layers that Connor delighted in peeling back like an onion, and he couldn't wait to learn more.

"It was arousing to know you wanted me so much." Connor blinked. "I was your first android?"

"Yup. Hopefully my last." Hank put his arm around Connor's shoulder. "I still have those clothes I lent you before. How about you make 'em permanently yours and come join me on the couch? If we're gonna continue this long-term mistake, that is."

"I'd like that," Connor said, peace settling inside him. Gavin seemed a million miles away now, though he knew he'd have to face him in court eventually. Hank's suicidal tendencies and chronic alcoholism would also have to be addressed, in time. They were far from anything considered a happy ending, and yet Connor couldn't help but feel like Hank was the best mistake he'd ever made. "I'd like that very much."


End file.
